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LEGIONNAIRE BOWE 

This matricule (aluminum wrist-tag) is No. 11,436 — Foreign 
Legion. Chevron and device on left sleeve denote a grenade- 
thrower of two years' trench service — one bar for first year 
and one for each added six months. Note bullet scar on left 
eyebrow. 



SOLDIERS 
OF THE LEGION 



TRENCH-ETCHED 

BY . 

LEGIONNAIRE BOWE 

A " 



PRESS OF 
PETERSON LINOTYPING CO. 
CHICAGO, 1918 • 



Copyrighted, 191 8, by 
JOHN BOWE 



/ 



5*0 



23 IS1.8 
©CU506281 



THIS AMERICAN CITIZEN'S BOOK IS 

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

TO HIS COMRADE IN ARMS, 

THE FRENCH POILU 



INTRODUCTORY 

"Good luck, my soldier ! You Americans are 
an extraordinary people. You are complex. 
We have thought we understood you — but, we 
do not. We never know what you will do 
next." 

I asked my French landlady, who thus re- 
sponded to the news that I had joined the For- 
eign Legion, for an explanation. She said: 

"In the early days of the war, when the Ger- 
mans advanced upon Paris at the rate of thirty 
kilometers a day, driving our French people 
before them, pillaging the country, dealing 
death and destruction, when our hearts were 
torn with grief, Americans who were in Paris 
ran about like chickens with their heads cut off. 
They could not get their checks cashed; they 
had lost their trunks ; they thought only of their 
own temporary discomfort, and had no sym- 
pathy for our misfortunes." 

"But," she continued, "the same ship that 
took these people away brought us other Amer- 
icans. Strong and vigorous, they did not re- 

7 



8 INTRODUCTORY 

main in Paris. Directly to the training camps 
they went; and, today, they are lying in mud, in 
the trenches with our poilus." 

"Now, we should like to know, if you please, 
which are the real Americans — those who ran 
away, and left us when in trouble, or those who 
came to help us in time of need. Are you goers 
or comers?" 

Self-proclaimed "good Americans," who 
pray that when they die they may go to Paris, 
are no more the real Americans than is their 
cafed, boulevarded, liqueured-up, artificial, gay 
night-life Paris — the only Paris they know 
(specially arranged and operated, by other for- 
eigners, for their particular delectation and 
benefit!) — the real Paris. 

Such Americans, whose self-centered world 
stands still when their checks are but unhon- 
ored scraps of paper, the light of whose eyes 
fades if their personal baggage is gone, with 
just one idea of "service" — that fussy, obse- 
quious attendance, which they buy, are they 
whose screaming Eagles spread their powerful 
wings on silver and gold coin only. Their "U. 
S." forms the dollar-sign. They are the globe- 
trotting, superficial, frivolous "goers." 

Boys in brown and blue, girls in merciful an- 



INTRODUCTORY 9 

gels' white, men and women of scant impedi- 
menta, are the "comers," to whom — and to 
whose distant home-fire tenders — "U. S." 
means neither Cash nor Country alone, but a 
suffering humanity's urgent — US. Bonds of 
liberty mean, to them, LIBERTY BONDS. 
Yes "La Fayette, we are here!" Real Amer- 
icans think, shoot and shout, Pershing for the 
perishing, "the Yanks are coming over till it's 
over, over there!" 



FOREWORD 

Let the fastidious beware! 

Here is no inviting account of a holiday in 

France. 
The fighting" author does not apologize for 

this terrible tale. 
He has written literally, unglossed — no glam- 
our, to 
Help you understand the horrors of War and 

Prussian dreadfulness. 
This gripping catalogue of catastrophe is by 

an American. 
It contains romance, history — but absolutely 

no fiction. 
It is a Love story. "Greater love hath no man 

than this . . . ." 
The National Society of Real Americans, in the 

shadow of 
Independence Hall, Philadelphia, reminds 
Us that we have two Countries — 
United States and France. 
"Jack Bowe," in this, his second volume on 

War, presents a French viewpoint, father 

than the British. 



12 FOREWORD 

Cosmopolitan, born on the Scotch-English 
border, he 

Knows no boundaries in 

Freedom's cause. 

He has served in five regiments in France. 

Wounded and spent, he has been restored in 
five different hospitals. 

Evacuated from the front, twice, he has recu- 
perated in 

England and returned, on furlough, to America. 

When he received "Certificate of Honor" for 
promoting the sale of Liberty Bonds. 

Thrice decorated for distinguished conduct and 
valor in Europe, 

He wears, also, three medals from service in the 

Spanish-American War and in the 

Philippine Insurrection. 

He has been marched through countless vil- 
lages of France whose 

Names he did not know — nor could he have 
pronounced them if he did. 

Indian file, in black night, he has tramped hun- 
dreds of miles of 

Trenches, which he could not have recognized 
in the morning. 

He has endured twenty days and nights of con- 
tinuous cannonade. 



FOREWORD 13 

Experiencing every sort of military warfare 

on land, he has also survived a 
Collision at sea. 
He has been Mayor of his own town, Canby, 

Minnesota. 
In Minnesota's Thirteenth, he fought for the 

Stars and Stripes, being 
Present at the capture of Manila, P. I., August 

13, 1898. 
Having represented, with honors, earth's two 

greatest 
Republics, he is still enrolled under the 
Tri-color of France, in that wonderful, inter- 
national composite of 
Individual fearlessness, the Foreign Legion. 
"Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear 

lass, 
And the wildest tales are true." 

CHARLES L. MacGREGOR, 

Collaborator. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Dedication 5 

Introductory 7 

Foreword 11 

CHAPTER 

I Joining the Legion 17 

II History of the Legion 27 

III Americans in the Legion 38 

IV First American Flag in France 92 

V Foreigners in the Legion 97 

VI Englishmen and Russians Leave 109 

VII Trenches 114 

VIII July 4th, 1915 121 

IX Outpost Life 130 

X Champagne Attack 146 

XI Life in Death 159 

XII The 170th French Regiment 162 

XIII The 163rd and 92nd Regiments '. 166 

XIV Hospital Life 169 

XV An Incident 177 

XVI Nature's First Law 186 

XVII The Invaded Country 199 

XVIII Love and War 208 

XIX Democracy 225 

XX Autocracy 233 

XXI Their Crimes 245 

L'Envoi 259 



Gftjep OTent before 



To those gallant fellows 
who left the peace and 
comfort of happy American 
homes, when their country 
was yet neutral; in order 
to carry out their ideals 
of Right and Justice; — this 
book is a reminder they 
have not suffered in vain — 
and are not forgotten. 



Soldiers of the Legion 

CHAPTER I 

JOINING THE LEGION 

I entered the service of France in the Hotel 
des Invalides, Paris, that historical structure 
upon the banks of the Seine, built by Napoleon 
Bonaparte as a home and refuge for his worn- 
out veterans. The well-known statue of the 
Man of Destiny, with three cornered hat and 
folded arms, gazed broodingly upon us, as with 
St. Gaudens and Tex Bondt, I marched up the 
court yard. 

At depot headquarters, where I gave my 
name and American address, a soldier, writing" 
at a desk, spoke up, — "Do you know Winona, 
in Minnesota ?" "Yes, of course, it is quite near 
my home." "Do you know this gentleman?" 
He unbuttoned his vest and pulled out the pho- 
tograph of Dr. O. P. Ludwig, formerly of Wi- 
nona, now of Frazee, Minnesota. 

That night I was given a blanket and shown 
to a room to sleep. I shall never forget what a 



i8 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

cosmopolitan crew met my unsophisticated 
eyes next morning. The man next to me, a 
burly Swiss, had feet so swollen he could not 
get his shoes on. Another had no socks. One, 
wounded in the arm, sat up in bed, staring at 
the newcomer. It is a habit old soldiers de- 
velop, a polite way of expressing pity for the 
newly arrived boob. An Alsatian corporal 
pored over an English dictionary, trying to 
learn words so he could go to the English army 
as an interpreter. Suspected of being a spy, he 
had been brought back from the front. These 
men had slept in their clothes. The air was 
foul, stifling. A soldier went about and gave 
each man his breakfast — a cup of black coffee. 

I stuck around, wondering if I had lost my 
number. Suddenly a voice, in English, boomed 
out, "Hello, where's that new Englishman?" 
"I am not English, — I am an American." Quick 
as a shot came the answer, "So am I ! I am the 
colonel's orderly sent to take you over to your 
company." A few minutes later, I was giving 
the latest American news to Professor Orlin- 
ger, formerly instructor in languages at Colum- 
bia University, New York. 

The training was fierce — almost inhuman. 
Men were needed badly at that time. The 



JOINING THE LEGION 19 

Germans were advancing, and would not wait, 
so men were sent out to the front as quickly as 
hardened. A number, possibly five per cent, 
broke under the strain. It was a survival of the 
fittest. We stuck it out ; and, after eight weeks, 
went to the front with the Second Regiment of 
the Foreign Legion. 

No other nation in the world has a fighting 
force like the Foreign Legion. Here, in this 
finest unit in France, the real red blood of all 
peoples unites. Men from fifty-three countries, 
every land and clime, all ranks and walks of life, 
colors, ages, professions, or different religious 
and political beliefs, speaking all languages, 
they have come from the four corners of the 
globe and are fused in the crucible of discipline. 
The Legion exacts absolute equality. The mil- 
lionaire with his wealth, or the aristocrat of 
birth and pedigree, has no more privilege than 
the poorest Legionnaire, who has not any. 

An outstanding type is the volunteer, well 
dressed, athletic, frequently rich, who burns 
with enthusiasm, and brings dash, energy and 
vim, to be conserved, directed into proper chan- 
nels by the tested old timers, who are the real 
nucleus of that dependability for which this 
Regiment is noted. During this war, 46,672 




OLD TIME LEGIONNAIRES 



ALEXANDRE FRANCOIS 

Switzerland 



CHAS. BLOMME 
Belgium 



Comrades in 27 campaigns. Photograph taken in hospital. One left a leg, the 
other an arm, to fertilize the soil of France. Francois has four decorations, Blomme 
has six. He carries the gold medal presented by Queeln Anne of Russia, in his pocket 
and fought for France and Liberty for one cent per day. 



VOLUNTEER 



JAN DER TEX BONDT 



From Holland. Man of birth, wealth and title in his own country. In the Legion 
a private soldier. Photograph taken the day he enlisted. Seriously wounded, was 
cared for in the American Hospital at Neuilly. Beported dead on the field. On his 
return to headquarters had to prove his own identity — and he had no papers. Someone 
Stole them as he lay wounded, unable to move. 



22 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

men had enlisted in the Legion, of which 2,800 
were on the front, autumn of 1917, when I left 
for America. 

The Legion is a shifting panorama, interna- 
tional debating ground, continuous entertain- 
ment, inspiriting school of practical human na- 
ture. The Legionnaire lives in realms of ro- 
mance, experiences, fantastic as are dreams, 
horrible as the nightmare. He comes out, glad 
to have been there, to have lived it all. 

In the village of repose, one will sit in a shel- 
tered corner by a flickering camp fire, in the 
gathering darkness, not hearing the ever pres- 
ent cannon's roar, nor watching the illumina- 
tion of the distant star-shells, while Legion- 
naires and volunteers tell of the Boer, Philip- 
pine, Mexican, Spanish wars, the South Amer- 
ican revolutions, or describe conditions on the 
Belgian Congo and in Morocco. Comrades in 
the flesh recount deeds with the thrill of rollick- 
ing adventure. The listener gets a grasp on 
himself, and learns world problems. He be- 
comes a divided person, one half living an un- 
natural present, the other absorbed in the ex- 
citement of yesteryear. 

Social life is that of the ancient buccaneer of 
the Spanish Main. Here the Legionnaire finds 



JOINING THE LEGION 23 

a kindred spirit, who shares his joys and dan- 
gers when alive, and inherits his wealth (?) 
when dead. Each shields the other in the small 
incidents of life. In larger affairs all are secure 
in the sheltering, comfortable traditions of the 
Legion, which, insisting on strictest obedience, 
provide, in return, unflinching common protec- 
tion. Never is a comrade deserted, left to the 
mercies of an enemv. Death, — rather than 
capture! 

As in the early days of the American West, 
a man does not have to bring recommendation 
from his priest, a bank's letter of credit, or a 
certificate of respectability, to prove his eligibil- 
ity. He is taken at his face value — "No ques- 
tions asked." He does not impair his citizen- 
ship. He does not swear French allegiance. 
He retains his own individuality. No one pries 
into his private affairs. His troubles are his. 
He carries them, also his fame, without adver- 
tising. If bad, he conceals his vices. If good, 
he bears his virtues in silence. Whatever his 
status in civil life, in the Legion, he is simply 
a Legionnaire. This is not the place for weak- 
lings. Invariably they are used up in the train- 
ing. Here are only strong, independent men, 
who do things, who make their mark, who 



24 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

scorn the little frivolities of life, who neither 
give nor ask favors. 

There are no roundheads in the Legion. The 
most noticeable thing is squareness — square 
jaws, square shoulders, square dealing of man 
to man. There is a feeling of pride, of emula- 
tion, between officers and men — a mutual re- 
spect, that is hard to define. Officers do not 
spare themselves. They do not spare their men, 
nor do they neglect them. While the men are 
untiring in admiration of their leaders, French 
officers are equally complimentary in their ap- 
preciation, which the following citation from 
General Degoutte, Commander of the Moroc- 
can Division, shows, — "The folds of your ban- 
ner are not large enough to write your titles of 
glory, for our foreign volunteers live and die 
in the marvelous. It is to the imperishable 
honor of France to have been the object of such 
worship, of all the countries, and to have 
grouped under her skies all the heroes of the 
world." 

Scores of books, in many languages, have 
been written about this famous corps, some in 
anger, others in sorrow, many blaming — few 
praising, the hardness of the discipline, the 



JOINING THE LEGION 25 

shortness of the food, the length of the marches, 
or the meager wages of one cent per day. After 
two years the pay was raised to five cents, sub- 
sequently, and again increased to one franc (20 
cents) per day, while at the front. 

There are many reasons why men become 
Legionnaires. Some join for glory, others for 
adventure. Some just want to be in the midst 
of things, — they yearn to see the wheels go 
round! Others were brought by curiosity, 
rather than intelligence. Some came because 
they wanted to — others, because they had to. 
Some crave the satisfaction of helping under- 
dogs, who are sweating their brass collars. 
Some fight for hatred of Germany and of the 
German character. Others strive for love of 
France and what she stands for. Different 
feelings, mingled with heroic ideals, recruit the 
ranks. 

American members know that the present 
fight of France is ours. She, also, contends for 
democracy. She aided us in our direst need. 
In the darkest hour of the Revolution, it was 
the French fleet that defied the English, landed 
French soldiers to help us, and enabled Wash- 
ington to dispatch 5,000 red-breeched French- 
men, who marched from Newport News to join 



26 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

1,500 American infantry under Alexander 
Hamilton. They captured Yorktown and com- 
pelled the surrender of Cornwallis and gained 
the victory that resulted in the independence 
of America. 

So, today, 142 years later, American soldiers 
in khaki cross leagues of ocean, fight, suffer 
and die to save France from invasion even as 
France saved us. 



CHAPTER II 

HISTORY OF THE LEGION 

The Foreign Legion has a notable record, 
which extends back to the Crusades. Then, 
French and Anglo-Saxon marched together, 
and fought to save the world for Christianity. 
History, repeating itself, after centuries, today, 
we see the same forces, side by side, fighting, 
dying, not only for Christianity, but for civili- 
zation. On the result of this clash with the 
barbarous Hun depends the preservation of the 
world. 

At Pontevrault, twenty miles from Saumer, 
in the valley of the Loire, rest the remains of 
Richard Coeur-de-Lion, whose Anglo-Saxon 
heart, worn with hardship and suffering, ceased 
beating under the sunny skies of France, 
pierced by the poisoned arrow of a mysterious 
assassin from the far East. 

Beneath the pavement, in front of the Church 
of the Holy Sepulchre, in Jerusalem, lie the re- 
mains of Philip D'Aubigne, a French knight, 
who fulfilled his vow to lay himself upon the 

27 



28 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

threshold of that church which marks the place 
where rests the body of our Lord and Savior, 
Jesus Christ. 

As the Anglo-Saxon perished in France, and 
the Frenchman died in Jerusalem, both for the 
cause of Right and Justice, today, millions leave 
native land to meet that organized force, which 
seeks to conquer, subdue, and enslave the peo- 
ple of all earth's free countries. 

Among ancient soldiers of the Foreign Le- 
gion were Broglie of Broglie, Rantzan, Lowen- 
dall, the Duke of Berwick, John Hitton, the son 
of an African king, and the Scottish Stuarts, 
with many other knights and men of note. 

For their devotion, especially that of the 
Swiss Guards to the French Kings, the Legion- 
naires, were respected, even by their enemies, 
the Revolutionists, who, April 20, 1792, ap- 
pealed to them to "desert the cause of Royal 
oppression, range themselves under the flag of 
France, and consecrate their efforts to the de- 
fense of liberty." They responded, gathered 
under the tri-color, and, in 1795, commanded by 
Angereau, Marshal of France, one of Napoleon 
Bonaparte's most trusted generals, won such 
renown that companies — frequently whole regi- 
ments of foreigners — flocked to their standard. 



HISTORY OF THE LEGION 29 

In 1799, there were incorporated a regiment of 
Italians, a regiment of Poles and a regiment 
of Maltese. These made the campaign of Egypt 
with Napoleon. In 1809, a Portuguese, a Greek 
and an Irish regiment joined. In 1812, came a 
regiment of Mamelukes, who, January 7, 1814, 
had their name changed to Chasseurs of the 
Orient. 

The Foreign Legion helped save France for 
the people in the Revolution. They shared in 
the glory and pomp of Napoleon's dazzling 
career. They marched and suffered through 
the retreat from Moscow. Napoleon, on his re- 
turn from Elba, created eight Regiments of the 
Foreign Legion, who shared the fate of the 
world's greatest soldier at Waterloo. 

After Napoleon's downfall Louis XVIII cre- 
ated the Royal Foreign Legion which later be- 
came merged into the 86th Regiment of the 
Line. 

May 9th, 1831, the French Chamber of Depu- 
ties decreed the Foreign Legion should not be 
employed on the soil of France, so the Regi- 
ment was sent to Africa, with headquarters at 
Sidi-bel-Abbe's, Algeria. 

In 1842 Patrick MacMahon, a descendant of 
Irish kings, was lieutenant colonel of the For- 



30 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

eign Legion. Later, during the Crimean War, 
MacMahon's troops were assigned the task of 
capturing the Malikoff. After hours of hand- 
to-hand, sanguinary fighting, to beat off the 
Russian counter-attacks, the French comman- 
der, Marshal Pellisser, believing the fortress 
was mined, sent MacMahon orders to retire. 
The old Legionnaire replied, — "I will hold my 
ground, dead or alive." He held. The evacua- 
tion of Sebastopol followed. In 1859, he de- 
feated the Austrians at Magenta. He was 
given the title of Duke of Magenta, and re- 
warded with the baton of a Marshal of France. 

In 1854, Bazaine, who enlisted as a private 
soldier in the 37th Regiment of the Line, and 
died a Marshal of France, was Colonel of the 
Foreign Legion. He led them to Milianah, 
Kabylia and Morocco. 

They participated in the Mexican War, in 
1861, and in the Franco-German War of 1870, 
after the fall of Sedan, and the capture of Na- 
poleon III 1 , under the Republic; they served 
with General Garibaldi, "The Liberator of 
Italy." Three brigades of the Foreign Legion, 
chiefly Irishmen, Spaniards, Italians and Franc- 
Tireurs, fought a bitter partisan warfare 
against overwhelming odds in eastern France 



HISTORY OF THE LEGION 31 

and the Vosges, where, rather than surrender 
to the invader, many crossed the frontier into 
Switzerland. 

At Casablanca, Africa, in 1908, a dispute 
about a German, enlisted in the Foreign Legion, 
almost precipitated war between Germany and 
France. The Kaiser rattled the saber, demand- 
ing an apology from France; but the response 
of M. Clemenceau, who stood firm, was so di- 
rect and spirited that Germany did not then 
insist. The day had not arrived. In the same 
town, seven years later, January 28, 1915, a 
German spy, Karl Fricke, after failing to pro- 
voke a holy war among the Mohammedans, 
relying on his personal friendship with his mas- 
ter, the Kaiser, laughed when the French com- 
mander told him he would be shot in an hour. 
"You French are good jokers," he said, and 
asked for breakfast. Half an hour later, when 
told to get ready for execution, he protested. 
"You are carrying the thing too far, you forget 
who I am." The officer responded, — "On the 
contrary, we know who you are; we remember 
quite well — only too well." 

In 1913 Lieut. Von Forstner of the 91st Ger- 
man Regiment used abusive language and in- 



32 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

suited the French flag, while warning the Al- 
satian conscripts against listening to French 
agents, who the Germans claimed were induc- 
ing men to join the Foreign Legion. 

On Nov. 29, 1913, at Severne near the Rhine- 
Marne Canal, the civilians assembled in protest. 
The soldiers charged the crowd, arrested the 
Mayor, two judges, and a dozen other promi- 
nent citizens ; who in response to the universal 
demand of the population were later released, — 
while the officers responsible for the outrage 
were court-martialed and acquitted. 

A short time afterward Lieut. Von Forstner 
had a dispute with a lame shoemaker and cut 
him down with his sword. 

This brutal act resulted in the officer being 
again court-martialed for wounding an un- 
armed civilian. Sentenced to a year's impris- 
onment, said sentence was annulled by a higher 
court, who claimed that he acted in "supposed 
self defense." 

The demand for justice caused by the injus- 
tice of the decision was so loud and threatening 
that the Reichstag was compelled to investi- 
gate the matter. For the first time in the Ger- 
man Empire a vote of censure was passed on 
the Government, 293 to 54. 



HISTORY OF THE LEGION 33 

This vote, which challenged the supremacy 
of the military dynasty, together with the re- 
fusal of the Social Democrats in the Reichstag 
to stand up and cheer the Kaiser, was one of the 
determining factors that helped bring on the 
war. 

In the spring of 1915 the Foreign Legion in 
Europe consisted of four regiments. In No- 
vember, the small nucleus gathered about the 
1st Regiment was all that remained of those 
splendid men. 

The 2nd Regiment, after passing the winter 
of 1914-15 at Croanelle in front of Croane, went 
into the Champagne attack, September 25, 
1915, with 3,200. October 28th but 825 survived. 
These were merged into the 1st Regiment. 

The 3rd Regiment, officered by Parisian fire- 
men, had a very brief and sanguinary existence, 
and later were merged into the 1st Regiment. 

The 4th Regiment, the Garibaldeans, 4,000 
strong, after a famous bayonet attack in Ar- 
gonne, captured three lines of trenches, losing 
half their effectives, including the two Gari- 
baldi brothers, Bruno and Peppino. The sur- 
vivors went to Italy to aid their own country, 
upon her entry into the war. 



34 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Many English, Russians, Italians, Belgians 
went home during that summer. When Le- 
gionnaires marched inside the long range of 
heavy German guns, with attacks and counter- 
attacking machine gun emplacements, with 
wire entanglements in front, which, owing to 
shortage of artillery, could not be blown up or 
destroyed, but must be hand-cut, or crawled 
through, is it any wonder they were scattered? 
Killed, missing, the hillsides were dotted with 
their graves; their wounded were in every hos- 
pital. 

During this last generation, the Foreign Le- 
gion made history in the sand-swept plains of 
the Sahara and in the spice-laden Isle of Mad- 
agascar. They marched to Peking during the 
Boxer troubles; fought against the pig-tails in 
Indo-China, and the women warriors of Da- 
homey. They have been in every general at- 
tack of the present great war. 

Advancing steadily, fighting side by side 
with the magnificent French Regiments who 
regard the Legion with respect, almost with 
jealousy, — the Legionnaire feels himself a per- 
sonage. His comrades have suffered and died 
by thousands to gain the position the Regiment 
holds. Each living member must now maintain 
that enviable record. 



HISTORY OF THE LEGION 35 

July 14, 1917, anniversary of the fall of the 
Bastile, Independence Day of France, the For- 
eign Legion was decorated with the braided 
cord, the Fouragere, the color of the Medaille 
Militaire, by President Poincare. The only 
other regiment permitted to wear that decora- 
tion is the 152nd, which has been cited four 
times. The Legion now stands cited five times 
in the orders of the dav.* 

The 
reads : 



The fifth citation of the Foreign Legion 



"General Orders, No. 809. 

"The General commanding the 4th Army 
Corps cites to the order of the Foreign Legion: 
Marvelous Regiment, animated by hate of the 
enemy, and the spirit of greatest sacrifice, who 
on the 17th of April, 1917, under the orders of 
Lieut. Col. Duritz hurled themselves against 
the enemy, strongly organized in their trenches, 
captured their front line trenches against a 
heavy machine gun fire, and, in spite of their 
chiefs being mortally wounded, accomplished 
their advance march by the orders of Col. De- 
ville under a continuous bombardment, night 
and day, fighting, man to man, for five uninter- 

* July, 1918. The Legion has again been decorated, this time with 
the Legion of Honor. 



36 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

rupted days, and, regardless of heavy losses and 
the difficulty of obtaining ammunition and sup- 
plies, made the Germans retreat a distance of 
two kilometers beyond a village they had 
strongly fortified, and held for two years. 

"THE COMMANDING GENERAL, 

"Authoine." 

During the attack on the Bois Sabot, Sep- 
tember 28, 1915, a captured German exclaimed: 
"Ha, ha, La Legion, you are in for it now. The 
Germans knew you were to attack; they swore 
to exterminate you. Look out. Go carefully. 
Believe me, I know. I am an old Legionnaire." 

Previous to this, Germany, incensed by the 
thousands of Alsatians and Lorraines in the Le- 
gion, whom German law practically claims as 
deserters from that country, served notice that 
any captured Legionnaire would be shot. So 
the Legionnaires hang together. They stay by 
one another. They never leave wounded com- 
rades behind. 

The Germans promised no mercy. The Le- 
gion adopted the motto: "Without fear and 
without pity," and on the flag is written, 
"Valor and Discipline." The march of the For- 
eign Legion, roughly interpreted, reads : 



HISTORY OF THE LEGION 37 

Here's to our blood-kin, here's to our blood-kin, 
To the Alsatian, the Swiss, the Lorraine. 
For the Boche, there is none. 




FOURAGERE OF THE FOREIGN LEGION 

In Artois, after the Legion attacked and cap- 
tured three lines of German trenches, in 1915, 
a captured officer, interviewed by the Colonel 
of the Legion, said: 

"Never have we been attacked with such wild 
ferocity. Who are those white savages you 
turned loose upon us?" 



CHAPTER III 

AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 

The world's one organization which, for a 
century, has offered refuge to any man, no mat- 
ter what nor whence, who wished to drop out of 
human sight and ken, does not, for obvious 
reasons, maintain a regular hotel register and 
publish arrivals. 

Records of the Foreign Legion are open to 
no one. This picturesque aggregation of dare- 
devil warriors neither supports nor invites staff 
correspondents. Even the names used by the 
gentlemen present do not, necessarily, have any 
particular significance. 

The American was a new element in this 
polyglot assembly. If there is anything he ex- 
celled in, it was disobedience. Independence 
and servility do not go hand-in-hand. He con- 
sidered himself just as good as anyone placed 
in authority over him. He knew that he must 
obey orders to obtain results, that obedience 
was the essence of good team work; but he 
wanted no more orders than were necessary. 

38 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 39 

He was willing they should be neutral, — who 
had not the courage to stand up for their con- 
victions. His conscience had demanded that 
he put himself on the side of Right. Always 
courteous to strangers, Americans would dis- 
pute and wrangle among themselves. They had 
a never-failing appetite, also a peculiar habit of 
cooking chocolate in odd corners, — contrary to 
orders. They never would patch their clothes. 
They did no fatigue duty they could dodge. 
They carried grenades in one pocket and books 
in another, and only saluted officers when the 
sweet notion moved them. 

A corporal, who, for obvious reasons, 
changed from Battalion C to Battalion G, 
speaking of early days said: "The Americans 
were the dirtiest, lousiest, meanest soldiers we 
had. They would crawl into their dugout, roll 
into their blanket ; and, when I went to call 
them for duty, the language they used would 
burn a man up, if it came true. Yes," he con- 
tinued, "one night I heard an awful noise down 
the trench; — it was bitter cold and sound trav- 
eled far, so I hurried on to see what was wrong. 
A little snot from New York was making all 
the racket. He jumped up and down, trying 
to keep warm, his feet keeping time to his chat- 



40 , SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

tering teeth, till he wore a hole through the 
snow to solid footing. Every time he jumped, 
his loaded rifle hit the ground. 

"You fool, don't you know that thing will go 
off?" , 

"Don't I know. Of course I know. What 
do I care? Do you know what happened in 
Section 2 last week, when a gun went off?" 

"No." 

"It accidentally killed a corporal!" 

The officers, however, noticed, after the first 
shock of misery and suffering, that they pulled 
themselves together, tightened their belts and 
made no complaint. On the rifle range, they 
held the record. On route march, they were 
never known to fall out. In patrol work, be- 
tween the lines, others would get all shot up 
and never come back. The Americans always 
got there; always returned; if shot up, they 
brought back their comrades. They were soon 
looked upon with respect and pride. They 
learned faith in their officers. The officers, in 
turn, found them dependable. 

It was customary for visiting officers to ask 
to see the Americans. When so ordered, this 
aggregation of automobile racers, elephant 
hunters, college students, gentlemen of leisure, 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 41 

professional boxers, baseball players, lawyers, 
authors, artists, poets and philosophers, were 
trotted out, and stood silently in line, while 
Sergeant Morlae, his head on one side, extend- 
ing his finger with the diamond on would say, — 
"These are the Americans, mon General." 

Did they like it? They did not. They were 
unable to vent their rage on the general; but 
they did on Morlae. True, he had made sol- 
diers of them, in spite of themselves. He had 
shamed, bluffed, bullied, scolded them into 
being soldiers. They did not mind that. They 
knew it had to be. But, being placed on exhibi- 
tion got their goat. 

However, each man carved out his own par- 
ticular block and put his mark thereon. Strong- 
characters, they cannot be passed over living, 
or forgotten dead. M. Viviani said, at Wash- 
ington: — "Not only has America poured out 
her gold, but her children have shed their blood 
for France. The sacred names of America's 
dead remain engraved in our hearts." 

Denis Dowd, of New York City, and Long- 
Island, a graduate of Columbia University, and 
of Georgetown, District of Columbia, a lawyer 
by profession, of Irish descent, a fine soldier, 
passed the first year in the trenches and was 



42 



SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 




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AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 43 

wounded October 19, 1915. We were in the 
same squad — were wounded different days — 
again met in same hospital. While in hospital, 
he received a package from the ladies of the 
American Church of the Rue de Berri, Paris, 
in which was a letter. This was followed by 
correspondence, later a daily correspondence. 
Then came an invitation to pass his furlough 
with new found friends. Inside of twenty-four 
hours after meeting, this hard-headed lawyer 
was affianced to the lady, daughter of a pro- 
fessor at the Sorbonne. He entered, for the 
study of aviation, the Buc Aviation School, 
and stood at the head of a class of fifteen aspi- 
rants. While making a preliminary flight, 
previous to obtaining his brevet, he was killed, 
August 11, 1916. In life he showed a contempt 
of danger. He passed away with a smile on 
his lips. His body was buried at Asnieres, 
near St. Germain. 

D. W. King, Providence, R. I., member of a 
family connected with cement products inter- 
ests in England and America, a Harvard grad- 
uate — of uncomplaining and unflinching dispo- 
sition, though small in stature, he was great 
in courage. I have seen him marching without 
a whimper when his feet were so sore that only 



44 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

the toes of one foot could touch the ground. 
He always had an extra cake or two of choco- 
late, and was willing to divide with the indi- 
vidual who could furnish fire or water. He 
changed from the Foreign Legion to the 170th, 
in 1915, and was seriously wounded in 1916. 
On recovery he went into the Aviation. 

Edgar Bouligny, a real American from New 
Orleans, Louisiana, had served two enlist- 
ments in the U. S. Army. His father was min- 
ister to Mexico, and during the civil war threw 
himself on the side of Human Liberty, as the 
son, later, put in his fortune and health for 
International freedom. He went from Alaska 
to France. He rose to be sergeant in the For- 
eign Legion. He was three times wounded, 
then transferred to the Aviation. Obtaining 
his brevet in three months, he went to Salonica, 
Albania, Greece and the Balkans. He was 
decorated with the Croix de Guerre, with silver 
star, in January, 1917. 

J. J. Casey, a cartoonist from San Francisco, 
California, went into the Foreign Legion in the 
early days and is still going strong. Naturally 
of a quiet disposition, he will fight at the drop 
of the hat, on provocation. He was shot in 
the foot on September 25, 1915, was in the hos- 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 45 

pital of the Union de Femmes of France at 
Nice and went back to the front, where he still 
remains. 

Arthur Barry, Boston, Massachusetts, for- 
merly a gunner on U. S. battleship Dakota, now 
acts as an Irish battleship ashore and throws 
grenades on the dry land Boche, whenever an 
opportunity occurs, — of a happy, devil-may- 
care disposition, all work is a lark to him, while 
growling and his temperament are total stran- 
gers. Twice wounded, the last time I saw 
him was in hospital at Lyons, where he was 
waiting till a shell splinter could be extracted. 
He had already decided that he would go direct 
to the front instead of to the regimental depot 
on recovery. He was decorated for bravery at 
Chalons, July 14, 1917. Was later transferred 
to the American Engineers, wearing the red 
fouragere of the Legion of Honor. 

James J. Back, an engineer by profession, 
who spoke French fluently, went from the For- 
eign Legion to the Aviation in the early part of 
1915. It was announced in "La France," Bor- 
deaux, September 2, 1917, that he was taken 
prisoner by the Boche. When his machine 
broke, he fell inside the German lines. He was 
taken before a court martial, charged twice with 



46 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

being a Franc-tireur American, which called 
for the death penalty; but was twice acquitted. 
He still languishes in prison. The published 
account is true; but it did not mention that the 
news was over two years old. 

Bob Scanlon, professional boxer, soldier of 
the Legion, kept having narrow escapes from 
death so often that he became a mascot of good 
luck. In civilian life he had whipped Mar- 
Robert, Marthenon, and Joe Choynski — even 
the Boche shells respected him! He changed 
from the Foreign Legion into the 170th, then 
went into the machine gun company. He lost 
his good luck. He found a piece of shell which 
ripped him up badly. Two years later, in Sep- 
tember, 1917, in Bordeaux, coming back to his 
old gait, he gave a boxing exhibition with Lur- 
line, the French Champion. 

Laurence Scanlon, wounded in the Foreign 
Legion, went into Aviation, dropped his aero- 
plane through, and into, a cook-house. His 
captain running, expecting to find a corpse, met 
Scanlon coming out of the door, who saluted 
and reported himself present, — "It is I, mon 
capitaine, just arrived." 

John Brown, American citizen, got mixed up 
with a shell explosion in the September attack 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 47 

in Champagne, in 1915. All his comrades were 
killed; but this tough nut has just been blown 
about till he is bent double and one eye is al- 
most gone. He has been in eleven hospitals 
during twenty-three months. In August, 1917, 
he was ordered to go to regimental depot for 
two months "Inapt." The regimental doctors 
gave him an examination, then sent him back 
to hospital. 

F. Capdevielle, New Yorker, splendid fellow, 
after a year in the Foreign Legion changed to 
the 170th, where he rose to be sergeant. But 
a young man, he has a great record for long- 
evity, having been through the successive at- 
tacks of the two regiments volonte, without 
receiving a scratch, though he was used up 
physically in the spring of 1917, and put in a 
couple of months recuperating in Paris. He 
was decorated for gallantry, at Verdun, in the 
spring of 1916. 

Tony Pollet, champion boxer, from Corona, 
New York, came to America with his parents, 
had his first papers — was the tallest, best- 
built man in his company — a terror on wrong 
doers — in social life as gentle as a woman. 
The boxing match between him and Bob 
Scanlon at Auxelle Bas, Alsace, will pass 



48 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

down in the traditions of the Legion for all 
time. 

Later Tony whipped the three cooks. He 
was put in charge of the kitchen for punish- 
ment; but he got into disgrace again because 
the Legionnaires caught a pet cat, skinned it 
and threw it into the soup. 

Living on his income of one cent a day, as 
he had no money, too proud to expose his finan- 
cial condition, he did not go to Paris, July 4, 
1915, but suffered his martyrdom in silence. 
Wounded in Champagne in 1915, also on the 
Somme in 1916, when permission came for a 
furlough in America, he had forty-two cents. 
He stowed away on a Trans-Atlantic steamer 
to New York, where the authorities claimed, 
he was not an American. If he had declared 
his intention to be an American, he had lost the 
evidence of it. So they locked him up two days 
at Ellis Island. 

When in hospital one night, he stole out to 
see his girl, caught, and standing before the 
medical board, who threatened to revoke his 
convalescence, he replied hotly — "You do that, 
and I will make you more trouble than you can 
shake off the rest of your life. You must not 
think you are handling a Legionnaire from 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 49 

Africa now; — I will show you what a real 
American Legionnaire can do!" The old 
Colonel, a judge of men, spoke up; — "Silence 
yourself. Attention, eyes front, about face, 
forward march." Tony walked away; but he 
got his. furlough. 

George Peixotto, painter by profession, 
brother of the President of the American Cham- 
ber of Commerce in Paris, joined the Foreign 
Legion and was detailed to the 22nd artillery. 
Now, instead of making life-like figures, he 
makes figures lifeless! 

Bullard. After the Champagne attack, in 
1915, was changed from the Legion to the 
170th, then again into the Aviation. A busy 
man, he managed to dodge the Boche bouquets, 
and, so far, he has kept right side up with care. 
Always likes to have Old Glory in sight. 

Bob Soubiron, in civil life a racing automo- 
bilist, former racing partner of Ralph de Pal- 
ma. After a year of active service with the 
Legion, he was wounded in the knee and evacu- 
ated. He concluded that was too slow. So, in 
order to get a touch of high life, he went into 
the Aviation. He was decorated for bravery 
with the following citation : — "Soubiron, an 
American, engaged in the French service since 



50 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

the beginning of the war,— member of the For- 
eign Legion, took part in battle of the Aisne, 
in 1914, and the attack in Champagne, in 1915; 
— wounded October 19, 1915, entered Aviation, 
and proved a remarkable pilot — forced an ene- 
my to fall in October when protecting aviators 
who were attacking an enemy's observation 
balloon." 

Lincoln Chatcoff, Brooklyn, New York, one 
of the old originals, went from the Legion into 
Aviation and was decorated with the Croix de 
Guerre. Unable to get permission to go to 
England, he demanded a pass to Paris. He 
went to the Minister of War's office, explained 
his case, and said, — 

"Now, I want to know the truth." 

"About what?" 

"Whether I am a Legionnaire or an Avi- 
ator?" 

"You look like an Aviator." 

"Well, am I one or not?" 

"You must be one." 

"Am I one or not?" 

"Yes." 

"Then I demand to be treated as one." 

"What do you want now?" 

"Permission to go to England." 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 51 

He got it. 

He became an expert in his line. He used to 
take his old friends up in the air, ask them if 
they had been to confession, or had said their 
prayers, then turn a double somersault, finish 
with an Egyptian side wiggle and land his vic- 
tims, gasping for breath. On June 15, 1917, 
he had aloft an American ambulance man, who 
was killed by the process. Chatcoff, himself, 
was sent to the hospital for repairs. 

Kroegh was in the Legion the first year. He 
went down with the boys to the Fourth of July 
wake in Paris. Then he went to Norway, 
where he organized and brought back a detach- 
ment of Norwegian Ski-runners, who hauled 
provisions and wounded men over the snow- 
clad hills of the Vosges in the winter of 1915- 
1916. • 

Eugene Jacobs, from Pawtucket, Rhode 
Island, went from the Legion to the 170th, 
where he became one of the best liked ser- 
geants. He was decorated with the Croix de 
Guerre for bravery. A butcher by trade, he 
now carries a carving knife on the end of his 
rifle. 

Barriere was killed at la Cote. His little 
brother, Pierre, 15 years old, who had come 



52 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

from America to be as near him as possible, 
was working at the American Express Com- 
pany's office at the Rue d'Opera, Paris, when 
the bad news came. He quit his good situation, 
stopped correspondence with all friends, and 
lived through his grief silently and alone, like 
the little man he is. 

John Laurent, a quiet, gentlemanly man, 
was in the Legion till October 12th, 1915, when 
he changed into the 170th. An actor in civil 
life, he became a real, living actor in the most 
stupendous drama ever staged. He plays his 
part to perfection. 

Collins, writer and journalist, passed the first 
year of the war in the trenches of France. 
Evacuated for inspection, the next we heard 
of him was from the Balkans. Wounded, he 
turned up in Paris for convalescence. Then, 
back to the French front. He became such a 
truthful and realistic writer, through actual 
experience, that the censor cut out the half of 
the last article he wrote to the New York Her- 
ald; and the public hears from him no more. 

Charles Trinkard, Brooklyn, went through 
the Croanelle and Campaigne affairs with the 
Foreign Legion. He was wounded in Cham- 
pagne September 25, 1915. Afterwards he 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 53 

joined the Aviation, and was killed in combat, 
November 29, 1917. His machine fell into a 
village occupied by the Legion. A few minutes 
after his death permission arrived allowing 
him, after three years' service, to visit his 
American home. 

Charles S. Sweeney, a West Pointer, rose in 
the Legion successively to corporal, sergeant, 
lieutenant and captain. He was wounded in 
the head in 1915. Decorated with the Legion 
of Honor and Croix de Guerre, he returned to 
America. On the declaration of war, he be- 
came a major in the American Army and drilled 
rookies at Ft. Meyer, Va. He carried the col- 
ors that enwrapped O'Connel's coffin — the 
Stars and Stripes, and the Tri-color, to the lat- 
ter's home at Carthage, Mo. 

Mouvet, San Francisco, Cal., brother of M. 
Maurice and Florence Walton, the dancers, 
joined the Legion, August, 1915. He was 
wounded, also, decorated with the Croix de 
Guerre, July 4, 1916. He served five months in 
the Aviation, then returned to the Legion; and 
in December, 1917, was again seriously 
wounded. 

Prof. Orlinger, Columbia University, New 
York City, put in the first winter in Croanelle, 



54 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

changed to the 167th, wounded and invalided 
home. Short of stature, the long strides he 
made on inarch, to keep step, were an addi- 
tional attraction in the ever-interesting adven- 
ture. 

Algernon Sartoris, son of Nellie Grant, 
daughter of General U. S. Grant, former Presi- 
dent of the United States, serves at present in 
the Foreign Legion. 

Paul Pavelka, Madison, Conn., an old timer, 
bound up Kiffin Rockwell's bayonet wound at 
Arras, May 9, 1915. 

It was his section that started the attack on 
the Bois de Sabot in Champagne in 1915. Or- 
ders came to reconnoitre the Boche position. 
Everybody knew that these trenches were Ger- 
man. They could see the rifles of the soldiers 
over the trench tops. Musgrave said, "Let's 
go see what in hell sort of a show they have 
over there." The section, about forty men, 
went and just two, Pavelka and Musgrave, both 
Americans, came back. After fourteen months 
in the trenches, he changed to the Aviation. 
He, a splendid marksman, put twelve bullets, 
out of twelve shots, into a moving target at one 
hundred yards. Killed near Monastir, Novem- 
ber 1, 1917, he was buried at Salonica. 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 55 

Frank Musgrave, San Antonio lawyer, a 
long-limbed raw-boned Texan, not only looks 
the part but acts it. Original as they make 
them, even in original states. It was a joy to 
meet such a character. After dodging death 
in Champagne, he changed into the 170th and 
at Verdun was captured in the spring of 1916 
by the Boche, during an attack. He is now a 
prisoner in Germany. 

Frank J. Baylies, New Bedford, Mass., drove 
ambulance in Serbia in 1916. Went into the 
French Aviation. At Lufberry's death, he be- 
came the leading American Ace and was him- 
self killed June 17, 1918. The news of how he 
was shot down in combat with German avia- 
tors, and went to his death among the flames 
of his machine on German soil, was brought in 
a letter dropped by an enemy pilot. He brought 
down 11 Boche machines, was promoted to 
lieutenant, and decorated with the Legion of 
Honor. 

David E. Putnam,* Brookline, Mass. Putnam 
succeeded Baylies as chief American Ace with 
12 Boche machines to his credit. In the month 
of June, 1918, he brought down seven machines. 

Paul Ingmer, New York City. American of 

* Descendent of General Israel Putman. Killed in combat Sept. 
18, 1918. 



56 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Danish extraction, joined the Legion in 1916, 
went up on the Somme for a preliminary, 
though bottled up in the Legion like Johnny 
Walker's whisky, is still going strong, and get- 
ting better with age. 

Nicholas Karayinis, New York. One of the 
Americans who lived to tell about it. Changed 
from Legion to American Army. 

Cyrus Chamberlain, Minneapolis, Minn. 
Killed in combat while he and a Frenchman 
were fighting twelve German aviators. Odds 
6 to 1. Though he lost his life, he gained the 
admiration of a brave people, and freely gave 
his blood to cement the tie that binds the two 
Republics. Decorated with the Croix de 
Guerre. Buried at Coulommiers. 

Harold E. Wright. Along with others had 
much trouble getting discharged from the 
French army. June 6, 1918, was ordered to 
Paris to be transferred to American Army. No 
papers. Waited around for weeks. Went to 
French Minister of Aeronautics for informa- 
tion. Was told to report to the Commander 
of the Fourth Army at the Front, where he 
was arrested as a deserter, and ordered to be 
shot at sunrise. Friends interceded, and he 
was ordered to report at the Bureau of Recruit- 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 57 

ment, Paris, where he received his discharge 
from the French Army, dated January 21, sev- 
eral days before he was sentenced to be shot. 
Again arrested on orders of the Prefect of Po- 
lice, an examination of his papers resulted in 
him being catalogued with the U. S. Army. 
Provost Marshal receipted for him like a bale 
of merchandise. 

Manual Moyet, Alabama. American Legion- 
naire, wounded near Soissons, May, 1918. 
Three times cited for bravery. Last citation: 
"Legionnaire Manual Moyet, during the Vi- 
lers-Bretioneaus combat, withstood effectively 
with his automatic rifle, the enemy machine 
guns, deciding the progress of his section. 
Afterwards he broke up several counter attacks 
along the front." He wrote from a hospital 
bed to a friend, "Believe me, I am sure that 
after the war it is going to be the greatest honor 
to have served in the Foreign Legion. I am 
getting better and hope to be ready for duty 
in a month. As I grow older I understand 
things better and better; we are not fighting 
for fun, but for liberty. After you have killed 
two or three Boches you do not mind dying. 
The spirit of the Legion is wonderful, although 
many of the most famous of the legionnaires 



58 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

are dead. Should 1 live to be a hundred years 
I shall never forget a man from my section who, 
mortally wounded, lay between the lines shout- 
ing, 'Vive la France, Vive la Legion I die, but 
I am satisfied to die for Liberty.' ' 

Elof Nelson, a real, quiet, pleasant man, 
changed from the Legion to the 170th. The 
only Swede in the Legion at that time, he 
adopted the Americans. He was killed on the 
Somme in 1916. 

George Marquet, New York, three times 
wounded — the last time on July 1, 1916, at Hill 
304, near Verdun. This company, the 8th of 
the 6th Regt. of the Line, while defending the 
hill against continued Boche attacks, out of 200 
men had only one sergeant and twenty-four 
men at the close of that memorable day. 

Jack Noe, Glendale, L. E, Foreign Legion, 
was wounded in the attack near Rheims in the 
spring of 1917, and captured in the general mix- 
up. He escaped and made his way back to the 
French lines. 

R. Hard, Rosebank, Staten Island, New 
York, having only one eye, went into the gas 
manufacturing works, and commenced to fill 
gas shells with a bicycle pump. Gradually, 
the business developed till ten men could turn 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 59 

out 1,875 shells every ten hours. A thin, wiry 
man, the gas fumes affected his heart. Stout 
men get the poison in the lungs. 

Henry La Grange went to France at the out- 
break of war and was ordered to the Foreign 
Legion: "No," he said, "I want to go to my 
grandfather's regiment, the 8th. If I can't join 
that I will not go at all." His great-grand- 
father had fought in Egypt. The grandson, 
following the old man's footsteps, rose to the 
rank of sergeant. He was decorated with the 
Croix de Guerre and, later, detailed to America 
to instruct the growing army in artillery obser- 
vation. 

Mjojlo Milkovich, of San Francisco, Cal., a 
professional boxer, left the Golden West with 
$6,000. in his pocket and an elaborate wardrobe. 
He was torpedoed in the "Brindisti" and, after 
five hours in the water, reached shore, naked as 
the day he was born. At Corfu, Greece, he 
joined the French Army, was wounded on the 
Bulgarian front and tended in the Scottish 
Woman's Hospital at Salonica. After his re- 
covery he went direct to the front, and, again 
severely wounded, was sent to France. At 
quarters one day he accosted me: 

"What, you understand English?" "Yes." 



60 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

"Are you an American?" 

"Yes." 

"So am I, — can't speak a word of French." 

The three main cords of his leg were severed 
by shell splinters. He chafed at the slow hos- 
pital life, and, every second day, he pounded 
the doctors on the back. 

"Why don't you let me go back to America? 
You have got my leg, you know I can never 
march again. Why don't you let me go home?" 
He was decorated with the Croix de Guerre, 
with the following citation: "A very good sol- 
dier, seriously wounded, advancing resolutely 
to attack a village very strongly fortified." 

I asked him what he saw down in the Balkans. 

"I saw enough — so that I'll never forget it." 

"Well what did you see?" 

"I saw enough to make me sick." 

"Well, what did you see?" 

"I saw boys seven and eight years old with 
throats cut." 

"How many did you see?" 

"Seven or eight at least." 

"What else?" 

"I saw young girls who tried to protect them- 
selves with faces streaked with knife wounds — 
some had their noses cut oft." 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 61 

"What else did you see?" 

"I saw old women laying in corners dying of 
hunger — I saw others out in the fields eating 
grass." 

Milton Wright, an American citizen, born of 
American parents, went from Philadelphia to 
France on a four-masted ship. On shore, with- 
out a passport, was arrested by the gendarmes, 
who communicated with his captain, who re- 
plied: "We don't want him. He is a German 
spy." So he was in prison four or five months. 
He was then told he could go into the Foreign 
Legion for the period of the war. He did not 
understand, as he could not speak French. The 
French officials did not speak English. He was 
signed up for five years. 

The "skipper owed him for several weeks' 
wages. His going left an opening to take back 
Frenchmen who would give thousands of dol- 
lars to get away and escape military service. 
Wright was an innocent, honest fellow, a vic- 
tim of circumstances. But he felt he was 
wronged and would not drill. Finally, after 
being worried almost crazy, he was given a 
railroad ticket to Boulogne, and mustered 
out. 

James Ralph Doolittle, of New York, started 



62 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

in the ambulance. He found it too slow for a 
live man, so he joined the Foreign Legion. He 
was decorated with the Croix de Guerre, with 
palm. He was a splendid fellow, good soldier 
and a gentleman. He was three times 
wounded. The last time he dropped 600 feet, 
breaking an ankle and seriously disfiguring his 
face. He passed his convalescence in America, 
November, 1917. 

Dr. Julian A. Gehrung, of the New York Eye 
and Ear Infirmary, offered his services to the 
then personally conducted American Ambu- 
lance. He did not know they wanted chauf- 
feurs and drivers, who could be ordered about, 
rather than doctors and men of established 
reputation who could run their own affairs. 
So, he, known in America from coast to coast, 
was snubbed. March 24, 1917, he was offered 
by the French Government, the supervision 
of a large hospital. Accidentally meeting an 
American soldier of the Legion, a French offi- 
cer came along, patted him on the back and 
said, "Ha, ha, you have got a fine appointment. 
You have found a compatriot. You are now 
satisfied." Quick as a shot, the answer came 
back, "No, I am not satisfied, I want to be sent 
to the front." 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 63 

James Paul, St. Louis, Mo., twenty years old, 
the first American killed in the Legion after 
the United States went into the war, was an 
enthusiastic grenadier. He was decorated 
with the Croix de Guerre for having alone, with 
grenades, stopped a night attack at Bellay-en- 
Santerre, in July, 1916. He was killed by a 
treacherous prisoner, whose life he had spared. 
Having killed the Germans in that dugout, ex- 
cepting this prisoner, who threw up his hands 
and cried "Kamrad," Paul started to run to 
the next dugout, when the German grabbed 
a rifle and shot him in the back through the 
heart. Barry and other Americans paid 
special attention to that prisoner. He did 
not die then, but, some hours, later, when the 
Legion was being relieved, he breathed his 
last. 

George Delpesche, of New York City, an 
energetic member of the Legion, and an excel- 
lent scout, a volunteer for dangerous missions, 
lived through places where others were killed; 
but he was wounded in 1916 and transferred 
to the 35th Regiment of the Line with head- 
quarters at Fort Brezille, Besancon. Deco- 
rated with the Croix de Guerre for taking, 
alone and unaided, five prisoners. 



64 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Emile Van de Kerkove, Pawtucket, Rhode 
Island, of Belgian descent, three times 
wounded, was decorated while in the 246th 
Regiment with the Medaille Militaire for hav- 
ing alone, with a machine gun, repelled a Boche 
attack. He is now in the 10th Regiment of the 
Line. 

William Lawrence Bresse, a son-in-law of 
Hamilton Fish, was killed in action. 

Ivan Nock, Baltimore, Foreign Legion, for- 
merly sergeant in the Maryland Militia, a civil 
mining enginer, came from Peru to help 
France. He was wounded in the head by an 
explosive bullet near Rheims, April 20, 1917. 
He was decorated with the Croix de Guerre, 
with the following brilliant citation: "A gre- 
nadier of remarkable courage, wounded April 
20th, 1917, by a bullet in the head, just after 
he had shot down his fifth German. He cried: 
'I will not leave the field until I have killed my 
sixth Boche.' He kept his word." 

Paul Norton, architect, died of wounds re- 
ceived in action. 

Kiffin Yates Rockwell, a real American, born 
at Atlanta, Georgia. One of his ancestors was 
a staff officer in Washington's Continental 
Army. Kiffin served the first winter in the 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 65 

trenches with the Foreign Legion, and was 
wounded in a bayonet attack at Arras, June, 
1915. He helped to form the Franco-American 
Escadrille. He was killed at Rodern, in cap- 
tured German Alsace, September 23, 1916, by 
an explosive bullet, when in combat with a 
German machine, and fell a few hundred yards 
back from the trench, within two miles of where 
he shot down his first Boche machine. He 
was decorated with the Medaille Militaire and 
Croix de Guerre and buried at Loscieul, 
Vosges. Asked why he entered the Legion, he 
said: "I came to pay the debt we owe, to La- 
fayette, to Rochambeau." 

Paul Rockwell, brother of Kiffin, also spent 
the first winter in the Legion. He was badly 
wounded and mustered out. Remaining in 
Paris, he devoted his time to bringing the two 
Republics closer together, and easing the hard- 
ships of his former comrades in the Legion, 
who recognized in him a true friend. He was 
married to Mile. Jeanne Leygenes, whose 
father was formerly Minister of Public Instruc- 
tion. He is at present on the front, attached to 
the General Headquarters of the French Army. 

Robert Rockwell, of Cincinnati, Ohio, 
thought cutting up as a surgeon in hospital not 



66 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

strenuous enough for a live wire, so he joined 
the Aviation to do a little aerial operating. 

F. Wilson, one of the old originals, used up 
on the front, went into hospital service. At the 
regimental hospital, at Orleans, he made a spe- 
cialty of tending and easing the path of poor, 
distressed, brother Americans. 

Billy Thorin, Canton, S. D., was wounded in 
the head at the attack of the Legion on the 
Bois Sabot, September 28, 1915. He returned 
to the front and was gassed on the Somme, 
July, 1916. He was fourteen months in hos- 
pital and mustered out September, 1917. For- 
merly he was a marine in the U. S. Navy, also 
a sailor in the Chinese Imperial Navy. As a 
South Sea trader, he fought cannibals in the 
New Hebrides. He had been severely 
wounded in the Mexican War. He says: 
"Compared with a German, a Mexican is a 
gentleman." 

Chas. Jean Drossner, San Francisco, Cali- 
fornia, one of the old originals, went through 
the hard fighting in 1915. He was wounded 
in the hand and mustered out. He is the son 
of a capitalist. 

A snippy under-officer in the Legion, not lik- 
ing his independent remarks about the size 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 67 

of the eats, said: "You have come into the Le- 
gion to get your belly full." The American re- 
plied, "I may not get very much food, I : don't 
see that any one does, but I have money. Here, 
buy something for the boys." He opened his 
vest and handed over three 1,000 franc notes. 

Maurice Davis, of Brooklyn, New York, rose 
to the rank of lieutenant and was killed in ac- 
tion. 

Harold Buckley Willis was reported killed 
September 3, 1917, but later developments 
proved that, during a. combat with German ma- 
chines, he was compelled to land on German 
soil, August 18, and was taken prisoner. 

Rouel Lufbury, Wallingford, Conn., Foreign 
Legion, changed to Aviation, a real cosmopoli- 
tan American, for fifteen years roamed the two 
hemispheres. Now, crippled by rheumatism, 
he rides his aerial carriage and kills German 
aviators for recreation. He served as a United 
States soldier in the Philippines and held the 
markmanship record in his regiment. While 
engaged in railroad work in India, on refusing 
to say "Sir" to a prominent citizen of Bombay, 
he lost his job just about the time the P. C. felt 
the toe of Lufbury' s boot. He traveled in Tur- 
key, Japan, China, Africa and South America 



68 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

October 12, 1916, the day Norman Prince was 
mortally wounded, Lufbury got his fifth Boche 
machine. By December, 1917, he had brought 
down, officially, eighteen. He is the first 
American to be awarded the gold medal of the 
Aero Club of France. He is also decorated 
with the Croix de Guerre with six palms; 
and is a chevalier of the Legion of Honor. 
In the spring of 1918, he was transferred 
and promoted major in the American Army, 
and when engaged in battle, a bullet from 
the enemy punctured the gasoline tank, and 
he jumped from the burning machine to his 
death. 

Joseph C. Stehlin, Sheepshead Bay, Long 
Island, brought down a Boche machine, when 
he had only been twenty days in service on the 
front. He attacked three enemy machines alone 
and brought down one with a pilot, observer, 
and two guns. 

George Meyer, Brooklyn, New York, was 
killed in the Foreign Legion, by a shell, while 
waiting for the order to go over the top near 
Rheims, April, 1917. 

Robert Arrowsmith, New Jersey, was 
wounded in the hip, and lying in hospital when 
America entered the war. The wound not 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 69 

healing quickly, he objected to hospital life, 
because: "There is so much going on, and so 
much work to be done." 

Dr. David D. Wheeler, Buffalo, New York, 
practicing physician, thought being a doctor in 
the rear was too much of a shirker's business. 
So, he went into the Legion at the front; and 
the Legionnaires still talk about the American, 
who wore no shirt most of the time, who never 
unslung his knapsack en route, who tented 
alone, who never bent the body or dodged a 
bullet, who was supposed killed at the Bois 
Sabot, but who lived through it and was found 
in hospital. Wounded himself seriously, he 
had cared "for others professionally in "No- 
Man's-Land," while under fire. He was deco- 
rated with the Croix de Guerre, with palm, and 
mustered out, used up. 

John Charton, Foreign Legion, seriously 
wounded by a machine gun bullet in the attack 
on Balloy-en-Santerre, July 4, 1916, after 
months in hospital, was sent back as reinforce- 
ment to a Zouave Regiment. He then went 
into the Aviation at Avord. 

Kenneth Weeks, of Boston, 25 years old, a 
graduate of the Massachusetts Institute of 
Technology, and a member of Delta Kappa 



70 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Epsilon Fraternity, author of "Driftwood," 
"Esau and the Beacon," "Five Impractical 
Plays," and "Science, Sentiment and Sense." 
Passed the first winter in Battalion D, of the 
1st Legion in Rheims Sector. He was in the 
Arras attack of May 9th and 10th, and men- 
tioned for bravery. Acting as a grenadier in 
an attack on Givenchy, June 17, 1915, he was 
first reported missing, then captured; and, sev- 
eral months later, officially, killed. 

He said, "Mother, is it not better that I 
should die than that the Germans should come 
over here?" 

Paul Raoul le Dous, Detroit, Michigan, pro- 
moted to sergeant, decorated with the Medaille 
Militaire for saving his captain's life on the 
Ancre. 

Ernest Walbron, Paterson, New Jersey, vol- 
unteered at the start of the war, fought in 
Artois, Verdun and the Somme. 

In August, 1916, was detailed as interpreter 
to an English Regiment, while leading it to the 
front was hit by a piece of shell. As no one else 
knew the way, he kept going till he reached 
the destination, then fainted. He could not be 
taken back on account of the bombardment. 
Gangrene set in and his leg was amputated. 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 71 

He was decorated with the French Croix de 
Guerre and Medaille Militaire, also with the 
English Military Medal. 

Andrew Walbron, brother of Ernest, deco- 
rated with the Croix de Guerre, Corporal in the 
78th Regiment, has been wounded four times. 

Paul Maffart, American, Foreign Legion, 19 
years of age, killed. 

Haviland, Minnesota, brought down his first 
Boche machine, April 28, 1917. 

Ronald Wood Hoskier, South Orange, New 
Jersey, a Harvard graduate, Aviator. His 
father is also in France in Red Cross work. 

Hoskier fell while he and his companion were 
righting six Boche machines. He and two 
Boche fell among the advancing English troops 
and were all killed, April 24, 1917. 

Cited in General Orders of the French Army : 
"Sergeant Ronald Wood Hoskier, an Ameri- 
can, who volunteered for service in the French 
Army. He showed splendid conduct and self- 
sacrifice. He fell on April 23, 1917, after de- 
fending himself heroically against three ene- 
my machines." 

Paul Perigord, college professor, formerly an 
instructor in St. Paul Seminary, later a parish 
priest at Olivia, Minn., went to France and into 



72 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

the trenches at the outbreak of hostilities. 
Cited four times in army orders, decorated with 
the Croix de Guerre, promoted to a Lieuten- 
ancy in the 14th Regiment of the Line. Later, 
he returned to America on a patriotic lecturing 
mission. 

Victor Chapman, son of John Jay Chapman, 
was one of the splendid fellows that it was a 
pleasure to meet and never to forget. Chang- 
ing from the Legion to the Aviation he was 
killed near Verdun, June 23, 1916, in a battle 
with French comrades against German ma- 
chines. The "Petit Parisian" headline an- 
nouncing the event, said: "The king of the air 
dies like a king." 

Harvard University students have raised a 
fund, known as the Victor Chapman Scholar- 
ship Fund, of $25,000, bearing interest of $1,000 
a year, which is set aside for the education of 
a worthy French student. A young man from 
Lyons is at present at Harvard, perpetuating 
and cementing the ties for which Chapman 
gave his life. 

Eugene Galliard, Minneapolis, Minn., served 
two years in the trenches, twice wounded, was 
mustered out as a lieutenant and returned to 
America. 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 73 

John Huffer, an American of the Legion, 
was decorated with the Medaille Militaire, and 
the Croix de Guerre, with five citations, four 
being palms. 

Bennet Moulter, an American, went from 
Mexico to France, changed his animosity from 
Caranza to the Kaiser; and was seriously 
wounded July, 1917. 

Christopher Charles, of Brooklyn, New York, 
21 years old, machine gun operator, has been in 
all attacks since September, 1914. He was dec- 
orated with the Croix de Guerre at Chalons, 
July 14, 1917. At Bordeaux, I met his marraine 
(godmother), who said, — "Yes, I know Chris- 
topher Charles. I met him when he was 
wounded in hospital here. That boy is an Amer- 
ican. His place is in his own country now. I 
will get him out of the Legion if I have to go to 
Washington to do it." 

Norman Barclay, New York City, formerly 
of Long Island, aviator, was killed by aero- 
plane, nose diving. Had two years' service on 
the front before being snuffed out. Killed June 
22, 1917. 

Robert Mulhauser entered the Legion in 
1914, changed to the 170th in 1915, was dec- 
orated with the Croix de Guerre and promoted 



74 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

to Lieutenant at Verdun. He has been cited 
in Army Orders three times. 

Walter Appleton, New York City, scion of 
the great American publishing house. The last 
time I met him was north of Suippe, in the mid- 
dle of the night, unloading barrels from a 
wagon in the darkness, where the first line men 
connected with the commissary. Zouaves with 
canvas pails of wine, Moroccans carrying loaves 
of bread on their bayonets, Legionnaires look- 
ing after their own, and ready to pick up any 
straggling food. Dead horses and men lay 
alongside, a German captured cannon pointed 
to the rear was near-by, surrounded by broken 
cassions and German dead. Shells were explod- 
ing overhead. We ran into each other in the 
mix-up, shook hands, said "Hello," and sepa- 
rated into the night. 

Alan Seeger, a Harvard graduate, killed in 
bayonet attack, in "No-Man's-Land," Inde- 
pendence Day, July 4, 1916. Buried in the Army 
Zone. The only tears that will water the flow- 
ers that grow on his hillside grave will be the 
evening dew, even as he dropped his brilliant 
thoughts on the close of life. 

Seeger Gems. "I love to think that if my 
blood has the privilege to be shed, or the blood 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 75 

of the French soldier to flow, then I ; despair 
not entirely of this world." 

"When at banquet comes the moment of 
toasts, when faces are illumined with the joy of 
life and laughter resounds, then flow towards 
the lips that which I at other times much loved, 
from the depth of the cup with the foam, as an 
atom of blood on the juice of the vine." 

"That other mighty generations may play in 
peace to their heritage of joy, one foreigner has 
marched voluntarily toward his heroic martyr- 
dom and marched under the most noble of 
standards." 

Letter to his mother: 

"I am feeling fine, in my element, for I have 
always thirsted for this kind of thing, to be 
present always where the pulsations are live- 
liest. Every minute here is worth weeks of or- 
dinary experience. If I do not come out I will 
share the good fortune of those who disappear 
at the pinnacle of their careers !" 

"Esteeming- less the forfeit that he paid 

Than undishonored that his flag might float 

Over the towers of liberty, he made 

His breast the bulwark and his blood the moat." 

"Under the little cross, where they rise. 

The soldier rests. Now, round him, undismayed, 

The cannon thunders, and at night he lies 
At peace beneath the eternal fusillade." 



76 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

G. Casmese, real friend, old soldier of the Le- 
gion, got mixed up and disappeared in the 
quick-acting movements of these chain-light- 
ning times. 

Russell A. Kelly, son of a New York stock 
broker, went through the hard and early fight- 
ing and was killed at Givenchy, June 17, 1915. 
His father, a true descendant of the Isle of Un- 
rest, on hearing the news said, — "He did his 
duty — I do not complain." 

John Huffert, New York, would not drive a 
motor car in the rear, so he scrambled out on 
top. In an aeroplane, he became the hero of 
several desperate battles above. 

John Roxas, Manila, Philippine Islands, son 
of the largest land owner in the Philippines, 
having absorbed American freedom, he is car- 
rying it to Germany. 

William E. Dugan, 27 years old, Rochester, 
New York, graduate of Massachusetts Insti- 
tute of Technology, joined the Legion, Sept. 
19, 1914, changed to aviation, October 15, 1915. 
Decorated with Croix de Guerre, wounded at 
Verdun. 

Kenneth Proctor Littaner, Sergeant in mil- 
itary life, poet in civil life, decorated and cited, 
as follows: — 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 77 

"A good pilot, brave, devoted to duty, an ex- 
cellent soldier, invariably showing energy and 
coolness, especially on Feb. 8, 1917, in course of 
an engagement with a German machine, his 
aeroplane hit in several places, he compelled his 
adversary to retreat." 

Narutz, an American philosopher, a serious 
personage, went through the hard fighting of 
1915 and was killed on the Somme in July, 1916. 

Norman Prince, Boston, Mass., a Harvard 
man of splendid character, was descending in 
the early darkness at Corceuix, when his ma- 
chine ran into a telegraph wire and tipped. 
Taken to Gerardmer, while lying unconscious, 
the Legion of Honor was pinned to his breast 
alongside of the Croix de Guerre and the Me- 
daille Militaire. That day he had brought down 
a Boche machine, the third he had accounted 
for. Cited as follows: — 

"Prince, Sergeant, Pilot in Squadron V. B. 
108: — An American citizen, who- enlisted for 
the duration of the war; excellent military pilot 
who always shows proof of the greatest audac- 
ity and presence of mind; — ever impatient to 
start, he has executed numerous expeditions of 
bombardment, particularly successful in a re- 
gion which was difficult in consequence of the 



78 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

firing of the enemy's artillery, by which his 
aeroplane was frequently hit." 

Killed October 15, 1916. 

Fred Prince, brother of Norman, is now 
in the aviation, while the father, Mr. Prince, 
is one of the best friends of the Foreign 
Legion boys, and they, like France, do not 
forget. 

Dr. Van Vorst, from the middle west, a Span- 
ish War veteran in America, adjutant in the 
Foreign Legion. He introduced new sanitary 
ideas into the camps of repose and kept the 
stretcher bearers busy cleaning up. 

William Thaw, Pittsburgh, Pa., passed the 
first winter, 1914-15, in the trenches with the 
Legion, rose in aviation to lieutenant. One of 
the best liked Americans in France. Cited fre- 
quently in General Orders, decorated for brav- 
ery, wounded in the arm. Promoted to Major 
in U. S. Army. 

One Citation: "Thaw, pilot, corporal at that 
time of Squadron C. 42: — Has always given 
proof of fine qualities, courage and coolness. 
On two separate occasions, in the course of 
scouting tours, his machine was violently 
shelled and was struck by shrapnel, great dam- 
age being done. Nevertheless, he continued to 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 79 

observe the enemy's positions and did not re- 
turn until he had accomplished the object of his 
mission." 

Another citation: "Lieutenant Wm. Thaw, 
an excellent pilot. He returned to the front 
after receiving a serious wound, and has never 
failed to set an example of courage and dash. 
During the German retreat, he showed initia- 
tive and intelligence by landing near troops on 
the march, so as to place them in possession of 
information. Brought down his second aero- 
plane, April 26th." 

Braxton Bigelow, grandson of John Bigelow, 
author, New York City, a mining engineer by 
profession, followed this occupation in Alaska 
and South America, was promoted to captain in 
France and disappeared in a trench raid, July 
23, 1917. 

Henry Claude, Boston, Mass., one of the Le- 
gion grenadiers, was cited in the Orders of the 
Day and decorated for conspicuous gallantry 
at Auberieve, June, 1917. 

Edward M. Collier, Bass Rocks, Iowa, Avi- 
ator, injured in a smash-up June, 1917. 

Elliot C. Cowdin, a Harvard man, member 
of the Foreign Legion, home address Gram- 
ercy Park, Manhattan and Cedarhurst, L. I. 



80 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

First American to receive the Medaille Mili- 
taire. 

Citation: — "Cowdin, Sergeant, Pilot in 
Squadron V. B. 108, an American citizen en- 
gaged for the duration of the war; executes 
daily long bombardment expeditions, is an ex- 
cellent pilot and has several times attacked the 
enemy's aeroplanes. He attacked them and 
forced them successively to descend; one of 
them appeared to be seriously damaged, as was 
his own and his motor by the firing from the 
German avion ; his helmet also bore the traces 
of several shots." 

Snowy Williams has been in different sec- 
tions of the Foreign Legion, in Serbia, Albania, 
Egypt, Africa and France. He was gassed, 
wounded, taken prisoner, almost burned to 
death in hospital; but made his escape, was dec- 
orated with the Croix de Guerre and twice cited 
in Army orders. A famous jockey, he runs 
with the Legion rather than with horses, and 
comes out, in both cases, a winner. 

Everett Buckley, Kilbourne, Illinois, a for- 
mer racing automobile driver, having com- 
peted with Barney Oldfield. On Dec. 15, 1917, 
during a battle with a two sector Boche ma- 
chine, had his control cut, dropped 8,000 feet 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 81 

and arrived, a prisoner, in Germany. Eight 
months later made his escape into Switzerland. 

M. Paringfield, of San Francisco, a soldier of 
the Legion, was shot below the knee in an at- 
tack, spring of 1917. Killed in autumn, 1917. 

Allen Richard Blount, son of Richard Blount, 
the chemist of North Carolina and Paris, en- 
tered the Foreign Legion with his father's con- 
sent, who said he would be satisfied if the boy 
killed five Boches. 

One morning that young man brought thirty 
German prisoners into the French lines, re- 
ceived the Croix de Guerre, a brilliant citation, 
and a trip to Paris, and went back again for 
more. 

Edward Charles Genet, Sassening, New 
York, killed in aeroplane near Ham, is buried 
at Golancourt in a German cemetery. The 
machine was smashed, the body placed in a 
wagon, drawn by one horse, which also carried 
the wooden cross which marked the grave and 
the U. S. flag which covered the cofhn. 

F. W. Zinn, Battle Creek, Michigan, gradu- 
ate of University of Michigan, passed the first 
year in the Legion, was hit by a chunk of metal 
in Champagne attack, September, 1915, which 
did not break the skin, but broke bones and 



82 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

made internal troubles. On recovery, he went 
into the Aviation. Later he was promoted to 
Captain in the U. S. Army. As modest as he is 
brave, decorated for gallantry, having received 
two citations in two weeks, he said: — "Do not 
say anything about me, there are too many 
unknown Frenchmen who deserve publicity 
more than I." 

Harman Edwin Hall, killed at Givenchy, 
June 17, 1917. 

W. R. Hall, or Bert Hall, one of old Legion, 
who went into the Aviation, well-known, well- 
liked, good soldier, decorated with the Croix 
de Guerre with three citations. On furlough 
in America June, 1918. Author of "En 1' 
Air." 

James Norman Hall, Corporal, Colfax, Iowa, 
aviator, author of "Kichinger's Mob," shot 
down two Boche machines, and destroyed a 
third. Four days later, June 25, 1917, fighting 
seven machines, was wounded, and reported 
killed. However, he managed to make the 
French territory, and landed in an empty 
trench with the wings of his machine resting 
on each side. 

Writing to a friend, he said: — "I am flying 
125 miles an hour and now I see why birds 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 83 

sing." Hall was the first American aviator to 
win the distinguished service cross of the 
American Army. 

John Earle Fike, Wooster, Ohio, Foreign Le- 
g-ion, killed at Givenchy, June 17, 1915. 

James B. McConnell, 28 years of age, born 
in Chicago, graduate of Haverford, Pennsyl- 
vania, and University of Virginia, a Railroad, 
Land and Industrial Agent, by profession. 
Writing for an American magazine, he was 
killed before the material was printed. 

He said: — "The more I saw of the splendid- 
ness of the fight the French were making, the 
more I felt like a slacker." He was decorated 
with the Croix de Guerre, and killed March 26, 
1917, while fighting two German aviators. His 
body was found amid the wreckage of the ma- 
chine by French troops on the advance through 
the devastated district. The old bullet marked 
propeller from this wrecked machine, which 
formerly marked his grave, has now been su- 
perseded by two cannon, erected by special 
order of the U. S. Government. 

McConnell said, — "The war may kill me but 
I have to thank it for much." 

Schuyler Deming, American citizen, soldier 
of the Legion, killed in attack August, 1917. 



84 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Dr. James A. Blake, American Surgeon, who 
gave his services to France at the outbreak of 
the war; — was requested by the French Gov- 
ernment to take charge of the hospital in the 
Ave. du Bois du Bologne with 300 beds. He 
was decorated with the Legion of Honor. 

Marius Roche, New York, arrived in France 
in 1914, only 17 years of age, decorated with 
the Croix de Guerre, wounded at Verdun. 

Edward Mandell Stone, a Harvard graduate, 
was the first American volunteer killed in 
France. 

N. Frank Clair, Columbus, Ohio, died in hos- 
pital of wounds received in action. 

Nelson Larson, a former American sailor, 
was killed on the Somme on our Independence 
day, July 4, 1916. 

Brock B. Bonnell, Brooklyn, New York, sol- 
dier of the Legion, seriously wounded, returned 
home to America, decorated with the Croix de 
Guerre, the Medaille Militaire and a wooden 
leg. 

Frank Whitmore, Richmond, Va., decorated 
for conspicuous bravery, on the Somme, July, 
1916, wounded in the spring offensive, 1917, 
now in hospital, covered with bandages, medals 
and glory. 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 85 

Edward Morlae, California, an old American 
ex-soldier. He served in the Philippines with 
the First California Heavy Artillery, then in 
the Mexican Civil War, then turned up in 
France and tried to pass Spanish conversation 
off for French. He was wounded in October, 
1915, decorated with the Croix de Guerre and 
is now in America. A good soldier and ag- 
gressive character, he is one man who will 
always be remembered by Americans in the 
Legion. 

H. W. Farnsworth, Harvard graduate, Bos- 
ton, Mass., killed in attack 1915, was a corre- 
spondent of the Providence Journal and in Mex- 
ico when the war broke out. 

From France in his last letter home he wrote, 
— "If anything happens to me you may be sure 
that I was on my way to victory for these troops 
may have been demolished, but never beaten.'' 

He preferred to become a Petit Zephyr de la 
Legion Etrangere and to sleep, like the birds, 
under the open sky, surrounded by congenial 
comrades, exchanging horizons with each sea- 
son. 

J. S. Carstairs, a Harvard graduate, was a 
member of the Foreign Legion. 

Geo. W. Ganson put in the first, winter in the 



86 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

trenches with the Foreign Legion. He was a 
Harvard graduate whose ministerial manner 
did not prevent the mud from hanging to his 
clothes, nor the whiskers on his face. He was 
mustered out and went back to America, but he 
returned to France in 1917 and went into the 
artillery service. 

Robert Pellissier, a Harvard graduate, be- 
came a sergeant in Chasseur Alpins. He was 
killed on the Somme, August 29, 1916. 

Henry Augustus Coit, a Harvard man, died 
of injuries received at the front, August 7, 1916. 

Robert L. Culbert, New York City, was 
killed in action in Belgium. 

Albert N. Depew, an American youth, wears 
his Veterans of Foreign Wars badge beside his 
Croix de Guerre. He has been a gunner and 
chief petty officer in the United States navy, a 
member of the Foreign Legion, also captain of 
a gun turret on the French battle ship Cassard. 
After his honorable discharge from the Amer- 
ican navy, he entered French service, was trans- 
ferred to the Legion, fought on the west front, 
and participated in the spectacular Gallipoli 
campaign, was captured on the steamship 
Georgic by the Moewe, a German commerce 
raider, and spent months of torture in a Ger- 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 87 

man prison camp. He has written a book, 
"Gunner Depew" ; and is at present on a speech- 
making tour of America. 

Demetire, St. Louis, Mo., soldier of the Le- 
gion, killed four Germans, — two with grenades, 
two with rifle, in an outpost engagement the 
night previous to the attack of April 17, 1917. 
Going over the top the following day, he was 
killed. 

Henry Beech Needham, American journalist, 
was killed near Paris, 1915, while making a trial 
flight with Lieutenant Warneford, who was the 
first man to, alone, bring down a Zeppelin ma- 
chine. 

D. Parrish Starr, a Harvard graduate, was 
killed in action September 15, 1916. 

Andrew C. Champollion, New York, an 
American, painter by profession, Harvard 
graduate, a big game hunter, went to the front 
March 1st, 1915. He was a descendant of the 
Champollion, who deciphered the Rosetta 
Stone, and grandson of Austin Carbin. His 
ancestors had followed Napoleon's Eagles 
through Italy and Egypt and this boy was 
killed by a bullet in the forehead at Bois le 
Pietre, March 23, 1915. 

In his last letter he wrote: — "Last night we 



88 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

slept in the second line trenches (not so bad), 
but today we are nose to nose with the enemy 
on the frontiest of fronts. It is the damnedest 
life imaginable. You are no longer treated like 
an irresponsible ass, but like a man, while you 
live the life of a beast or a savage." 

Guy Augustine, of San Francisco, son of the 
U. S. Consul to Barcelona, member of the For- 
eign Legion, was decorated with the Croix de 
Guerre for bravery at Chalons-Sur-Marne, 
July 14, 1917. 

Sylvain Rosenberg, New York, 23 years of 
age, son of Max Rosenberg, with the 19th Com- 
pany of the 251st Regiment, wounded on the 
Marne, Sept. 7, 1914; — in Argonne, Dec. 8, 
1915, — cited in the Orders of the Day, — and 
killed March 15, 1916, at Verdun. 

The Lafayette Escadrille, No. 124, is an off- 
spring of the Legion, formed by Rockwell, Cur- 
tis, Thaw, Hall, Back, Chapman, Cowdin and 
Prince, who kept pounding the Colonel of the 
Legion on the back, so much that he gave his 
consent, to get rid of them. It has formed a 
nucleus of All-Americans that became the start, 
or foundation, of that immense fleet of aero- 
planes that is to furnish the eyes that will find 
the weak places in the enemy's line through 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 89 

which the Allies will march to victory. First 
Americans to carry their national flag into ac- 
tion as a fighting unit, April 11, 1917. 

Originally called the Franco-American Es- 
cadrille, but the name was changed to satisfy 
pro-Germans, who claimed to be Americans, 
but these aviators did not change their emblem. 
The Red Indian sign is still on the machines. 
The old boys from the Legion are in the seat, 
and we hope to see every man an officer, dressed 
in the uniform of his own country. 

About the time the United States entered the 
war, the Americans of the Legion offered their 
services to the American Government at home 
and were not then accepted and the following 
letter, among others, was sent to the New York 
Herald by a French lady: — 

"American Veterans in France. 

"April 28, 1917. 

"Sir: — May I ask through your columns why 
it is that those few Americans, brave enough 
to seek voluntarily, while their country was 
still neutral, the ranks, of our army, have not 
yet been claimed by their own Government, 
whose citizens they remain, while all at home 



90 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

are apparently receiving" commissions and 
honor, are these men to remain sergeants and 
soldiers in the French Army, unrecognized and 
unhonored by their mother country? 

"To me, their part was such a beautiful one, 
to leave home and luxury and peace for this 
carnage to follow their ideals, to risk death vol- 
untarily, if it aid their friends. 

"Surely, your people cannot understand how 
deeply the spirit of those boys has touched the 
hearts of French women in these trying times. 
And, now that the spirit of your people has 
risen to their side, are these leaders to be for- 
gotten? 

"The two aviators, Genet and Hoskier, who 
have died since April 3, were in French uni- 
form. Frenchmen respect them; do not Amer- 
icans? A French Mother." 

The Continental edition of the New York 
Herald is not a mail order catalogue, or a polit- 
ical organ, it is a real newspaper, and the 
only American journal published in France. 
It is well printed on good paper. It records the 
doings of society. Its columns are open to the 
opinions of others. It publishes the most cut- 
ting criticism of its own policy with the great- 



AMERICANS IN THE LEGION 91 

est of pleasure. It prints every appeal for char- 
ity — from humans to cats. 

It fought for International Honesty, when 
leaders and trimmers were silent. When the 
leaders woke up, it pushed. Its accurate infor- 
mation, often suppressed by the censor, makes 
every blank space an honor mark. While the 
editor, like the petite Parisienne, whose demure 
eyes cannot conceal the lurking mischief within, 
just writes enough editorially to make the 
reader wish for more. 

Its vigorous American attitude in 1915 and 
1916 gave the French people hope. It gave the 
repatriated American comfort, for it strength- 
ened his convictions. He felt better for know- 
ing that some, at least, of his countrymen had 
the courage to stand up for the cause he was 
willing to die for. So, he went forward cheer- 
fully. He knew he was following the right path 
and he was not alone. The Herald gave him 
comfort. It sustained him in adversity. 



CHAPTER IV 

FIRST AMERICAN FLAG IN FRANCE 

Americans in the Legion came and went. 
Singly or in groups they went wounded into 
hospitals, prisoners into Germany. Dead they 
took the western trail to eternity. Missing they 
disappeared into oblivion. A few were permit- 
ted to exchange into French Regiments, where, 
mothered by France, they were welcomed as 
her own. 

August 21, 1914, in the court yard of the 
Hotel des Invalides, occurred that grand mo- 
bilization of foreigners, who, in admiration for 
France, placed their lives at her disposal. 
Grouped together, each under a separate stand- 
ard, these cast the vote of inspiring constitu- 
ents, lovers of freedom, back home. 

Next day, the American volunteers assem- 
bled at No. 11 Rue de Valois, and had break- 
fast through the courtesy of M. Georges Cas- 
meze at the Cafe de la Regence. Starting out 
from the Palace Royale in the Latin Quarter, 
that corner of old Paris where, in by-gone days, 

92 



AMERICAN FLAG IN FRANCE 93 

Camille Desmoulins jumped on a chair and 
made the speech that started the French Rev- 
olution, these latter day revolters against the 
"Divine Right of Kings" and absolute monarch- 
ism began the greatest venture the world has 
ever known. 

The volunteers marched through the Place 
de 1' Opera, Phelizot carrying high and proudly 
the Stars and Stripes, which received a great 
ovation en route. Thence to the Gare St. La- 
zare, to Rouen, where they met retreating Eng- 
lish soldiers, many wounded and utterly ex- 
hausted. Thence to Toulouse, whence, after a 
very brief training, they were sent to the front. 

February, 1915, in the village of repose there 
occurred one of those lamentable misunder- 
standings, which, in spite of official far-sight- 
edness, occasionally happen in the best regu- 
lated organizations. Begun in fun, it ended in 
death, and almost started a civil war between 
volunteers and Legionnaires. 

A little New Yorker commenced to chaff and 
jolly a big, burly Arab, who, not understanding- 
American methods of joshing, thought the lit- 
tle fellow was desperately in earnest; and, of 
course, he got angry, as he was expected to. 



94 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

What the Arab intended to reply was that he 
could whip two men like his tormenter. He 
did say he could whip two Americans. Phe- 
lizot, coming on the scene just then, overhear- 
ing the remark, yelled, — "You can't whip one," 
and waded in to educate the Arab. 

In about two minutes, the Arab had enough, 
and ran among a crowd of Legionnaires for 
protection. One of the Legionnaires swung a 
canteen and hit Phelizot on the head, who did 
not stop till he beat the Arab to the ground. 
Morlae, Capdeville and other volunteers ran to 
Phelizot's aid. Legionnaires flocked from all 
corners. A pitched battle seemed imminent. 
An officer heard the tumult, happening along, 
and separated them. The Arabs were trans- 
ferred to another battalion. The Americans 
were herded into a loft, and placed under ar- 
rest; while sentinels walked underneath, with 
fixed bayonets, till the Arabs had been moved, 
bag and baggage. 

The doctor who dressed Phelizot's wound 
probably did not know the canteen was rusty. 
Possibly he did not know he was hit by a can- 
teen. At any rate, he did not give an anti-te- 
tanic injection. The injured man steadily grew 
worse. He was not a squealer, and insisted on 



AMERICAN FLAG IN FRANCE 95 

marching in line till the pain became unbear- 
able. When too late, his condition was discov- 
ered. He had contracted blood poison which 
resulted in his death. 

He was a splendid specimen of manhood, an 
American first, last, all the time. A dead shot, 
he was hunting elephants in Africa when the 
war broke out. In spite of having a large con- 
signment of ivory confiscated by the Germans 
in Antwerp, he donated several thousand francs 
to the Belgian Relief Fund. 

By his untimely death, the Legion lost one 
of its strongest characters, France a fine soldier 
and America a good citizen. He was buried at 
Ferme,d' Alger. His last words, were, — "I am 
an American." 

The flag was carried by Phelizot until his 
death. Then, Bob Soubiron wrapped it about 
his own body and so kept it until he was 
wounded in October, 1915. On his recovery, 
February, 1916, it was taken to the Aviation, 
and, July 14, 1917, presented, by Dr. Watson, 
to the French Government. It was deposited 
in the Hotel des Invalides along with the other 
historic battle flags of France. The Minister 
of War acknowledged its receipt, — "I accept 



9 6 



SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 



with pleasure, in the name of the French army, 
this glorious emblem, for which General Noix, 
Governor of the Invalides, has reserved a beau- 
tiful place in the Hall of Honor in the Museum 
of the Army." 





United States Army 

INDIVIDUAL SERVICE 
MEDAL 

Spanish-American War 
1898 



United States Army 

INDIVIDUAL SERVICE 
MEDAL 

Philippine Insurrection 
1899 



CHAPTER V 

FOREIGNERS IN THE LEGION 

Within this present generation, men like 
Lord Kitchener, King Peter of Serbia, Vernof, 
a Russian prince, and Albert F. Nordmann, 
who died in Algeria and was reported a relative 
of Kaiser Wilhelm II, belonged to this famous 
corps. This chapter presents some illustrious 
foreigners who have served during the present 
war. 

Nagar Aza, son of the Persian minister to 
France, decorated for bravery and three times 
cited in Army Orders, again cited and deco- 
rated for brilliant conduct at Auberieve, April 
17, 1917. 

Edwin Bucher, a Swiss sculptor, pupil of Ro- 
den and Bourdelle, has marked the resting 
places of the Foreign Legion by carving exqui- 
site figures on the solid walls of everlasting 
rock. 

Marquis de Montesquion, compelled to leave 
the French Army because his Catholic soul 
would not permit him to dismantle churches. 

97 



98 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

joined the Foreign Legion. On Sept. 28, 1915, 
when acting as Lieutenant in Battalion G, 2nd 
Legion, he saw a German white flag projecting 
from the enemy's position. He went over with 
eight men to take possession and all were shot 
down by the treacherous enemy and killed. 

M. Lobedef, a Russian, promoted to lieuten- 
ant in 1915. He later returned to Russia and 
became Minister of Marine. 

Abel Djebelis, a Maltese, winner of the Mar- 
athon race between Windsor and London, Eng- 
land, June, 1914. He was wounded at Cham- 
pagne in 1915 and on the Somme in 1916, by 
two bullets each time. While waiting to be 
mustered out at Lyons, July, 1917, he entered 
a race under the name of Marius, and won from 
twenty competitors. Discharged for disability. 
M. Valsamakis, a Greek, rose to a lieutenancy 
in the Legion and was decorated with the Le- 
gion of Honor. He returned home and was ar- 
rested in Athens for participating in the street 
riots of December. 1916. 

Piechkoff Gorky, Russian, son of Maxim 
Gorky, the novelist, had an arm blown away by 
a shell. He received the Legion of Honor for 
bravery and is now attached to the Russian 
Mission in France. 



FOREIGNERS IN THE LEGION 99 

Bruno and Peppino Garibaldi, Italians, sons 
of an illustrious father, killed in bayonet attack 
in Artois, spring of 1915. French admirers 
have had their profiles, in a medal, fitted into 
the statue of Garibaldi in the Square Lowendal, 
Paris. The square is named for one Legion- 
naire, the statue is built for another. 

Eilyaken, an Egyptian, was attending the 
Conservatory of Music at Brussels when the 
war broke out. A natural born actor, he bur- 
lesqued the military system of the Legion so 
accurately that the sous-officers managed to 
keep him in prison in order to silence his cut- 
ting sarcasm. He was shot, square through 
both cheek bones, in the Champagne attack, in 
1915, and carried to shelter on the back of an 
officer. Mustered out in 1916. 

An East Indian, name unknown, blew in, like 
a blaze of glory, between two French military, 
policemen. He was dressed in English khaki — 
clothes, leggings, spy-glass, map-book, canteen, 
haversack, spurs, a brand new English rifle, 
with a pocket full of 100 franc notes. 

"What is that, an English soldier?" 

"No, a civilian." 

Such he proved to be, a practicing physician 
in London, who had equipped himself, and ar- 



ioo SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

rived at the little village where the Legion was 
in repose. A stout man, the officer in command, 
addressed the East Indian, — 

"Why don't you report yourself at headquar- 
ters?" " 

"How can I report myself, till I can find the 
place to report?" 

"Why don't you report to your superior of- 
ficer?" 

"I can't report to him till I can find him, can 
I?" 

"Don't you know I am your superior officer; 
— why don't you salute?" 

"I ; f you are, consider yourself saluted." 

The Major roared out, in disgust, — "Here, 
sergeant, take this fool to prison." 

De Chamer, Swiss, a major in the Swiss Na- 
tional Army, fought his way up in the Legion 
from a private to a captaincy. The Swiss resi- 
dents of Paris showed appreciation of their 
countrymen in the service of France by inviting 
them to a banquet held in the Palais d'Orsay, 
on Independence Day, Aug. 1, 1917. 

Emery, Swiss, a student of Oxford Univer- 
sity, England, outspoken, independent and in- 
telligent — a good comrade, was killed on the 
Somme, July, 1916. 



FOREIGNERS IN THE LEGION 101 

Ben Azef, an Arab, an Oriental priest, always 
wanted water, when there was none. He would 
flop onto his knees, face toward the East, and 
bow his forehead to the ground. Then get up 
on the trench and rail at the Germans for their 
swinish propensities and ruthless rapacity. 

A shell dropped into his section. His com- 
rades threw themselves on the ground and 
yelled out : — 

"Get down, you . blamed fool, you'll get 
killed!" 

Ben Azef stood majestically erect, gazed 
calmly and contemplatively at the shell (for- 
tunately it was a dud — one which fails to ex- 
plode) and said, — "My friends, death to me is 
not destruction. It is the consummation of my 
material life, — the commencement of my Life 
Divine." 

He was shot dead through the heart, in 1916. 

Ch. A. Hochedlinger, an educated Polish gen- 
tleman, speaks half a dozen languages, was 
twice wounded. When in hospital, he met and 
married a lovely French girl from Algiers, who 
now conducts his business at Bordeaux, while 
he gives his services to France. 

Michal Ballala, an Abyssinian Prince, in spite 
of his color, had the dainty figure and elegant 



102 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

bearing of a woman of fashion. He was 
wounded in 1915. 

Colonel Elkington, of the English Royal 
Warwickshire Regiment, served as a private 
soldier in the Legion. He was seriously 
wounded in the attack on the Bois Sabot, Sept. 
28, 1915. He was decorated with the Croix de 
Guerre and Medaille Militaire. 

One morning, on inspection, an Alsatian 
Captain of the Legion, noticing he was short a 
button, said, — "No button? Four days confined 
to quarters." 

Elkington replied, — "Merci, mon capitaine." 
(Thank you, my captain.) 

On recovery from his serious wounds, he re- 
turned to England and was reinstated in his 
former rank. 

Said Mousseine and his two brothers, sons of 
Sultan Ali of the Grand Comorres, who, being 
too old to fight, sent his best beloved to aid the 
country he holds so dear. Said was promoted 
to corporal and transferred to the 22nd Colo- 
nials. 

Augustus St. Gaudens, cousin of the sculptor 
who made the Adams monument in Rock Creek 
cemetery, Washington, D. C, whose father 



FOREIGNERS IN THE LEGION 103 

lived near the old Academy of Design on Fourth 
Avenue, New York. 

Another cousin of St. Gaudens, Homer, is in 
charge of the 300 men in the U. S. Army, known 
as the Camouflage Corps, or the army in ad- 
vance of the army. 

Varma,* a Hindoo, black whiskered, silent. 
Let those speculate about him who would, let 
them glean what information they could. 

M. Ariel, a Turk, dealer in antiques in civil 
life. He was seriously wounded on the Somme, 
in 1916. I met him at Legion headquarters a 
year later and found him carrying a purse made 
of his own skin. 

E. Seriadis, a Greek, was a Lieutenant in the 
Army of Greece. He had three medals from the 
Balkan wars. These he refused to wear because 
King Constantine's face disgraced them. He 
was seriously wounded in the body in 1915, and, 
during the winter of 1916, all the toes of both 
feet were frozen off. At the age of twenty- 
three, he was mustered out — used up. 

Tex Bondt, a Hollander, a wonderful char- 
acter, a splendid specimen of manhood, brave 
as a lion, quick as a steel trap, the only son of 
a Count, with an unbroken lineage, extending 

* In Aug., 1918, a man same name, same type, was arrested in 
Paris by the gendames for making and selling bogus diamonds. 



104 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

back for 800 years, his record in the Legion 
would fill a book. 

He went out and captured two Germans sin- 
gle handed. He tried to capture a third but was 
discovered. He threw a grenade, and, both 
sides taking alarm, started an engagement. He 
was between the lines and 'was reported miss- 
ing. Four hours later, he reported himself 
alive. 

In Alsace he worked and slaved to chop up a 
poor peasant woman's wood-pile — just to show 
her a Hollander could keep his word. 

He was shot through the lungs and taken 
to the hospital. Months later, reporting 
at the depot, he was informed that he was 
dead. 

When on convalescence in Paris, living on 
one meal per day, he met one of France's most 
accomplished and wealthy daughters. He is 
now her acknowledged suitor. 

Seeing him in prison one day, I asked, — 

"What are you in for?" 
'"Nothing." 

"How's that?" 

"Well, a friend in London asked me why I 
did not write about Legion life, and I responded, 
— 'My dear fellow, if I wrote you all I know 



FOREIGNERS IN THE LEGION 105 

about the Legion, it would make your hair 
stand on end!' " 

Sorenson, a Dane, from Schleswig-Holstein, 
formerly a policeman at St. Thomas, Danish 
West Indies. He came to me holding a letter 
in his hand and said, — 

"Just see here what those swine have done 
— they have fined my mother a hundred marks 
because she gave a crust of bread to a French 
prisoner." 

Poor fellow, the last I saw of him was on 
Sept. 25, 1915, during the attack. He had been 
buried by a shell — other soldiers had run over 
him in the rush. After he worked through the 
loose earth and freed himself, I listened to him 
as in broken French, English and Danish he 
apologized to the captain for the broken straps 
of his knapsack and a lost gun. His round 
chest was flattened out, his face dirty and 
bloody, grazed by hob-nailed boots, and blood 
was trickling from a round hole in his forehead. 
The captain, a good sort, patted him on the 
back and told him to go to the Red Cross Sta- 
tion. The poor fellow staggered away and was 
never heard from again. 

Guimeau, Mauritius Islands, a plantation 
owner, of French descent, under British rule, 



106 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

spoke French but no English. He was an ener- 
getic character and a valuable member of the 
machine gun section. 

In 1915, after taking several lessons in tac- 
tics, he went to the lieutenant, — 

"What are we waiting here for? Why don't 
we go to the front?" 

"We are waiting for the guns." 

"How many are needed for our section and 
how much do they cost?" 

"Two, at 2,000 francs each." 

"Well, here are 4,000 francs. Buy them and 
let us get out where we belong." 

When he was about to change to the British 
Army, the Colonel of the Legion, the Chief of 
the Battalion and the Captain of the Company 
waited for five minutes while the British Am- 
bassador explained to Guimeau the benefits of 
changing armies. After listening to the finish 
he said, — "Will you repeat that in French? I 
did not understand a word you said." Know- 
ing his desire to leave the Legion, his Captain 
asked, why he, of French descent, speaking only 
that language, should not be satisfied with his 
comrades„who were proud of him. He replied, 
— "The British flag is the flag of my country. 
It protects me. I want to protect it." So he 



FOREIGNERS IN THE LEGION 107 

went to Great Britain, and the British, not 
knowing what to do with this handy, ready Le- 
gionnaire, sent him to school. 

Dinah Salifon, son of an African King from 
the Soudan, Egypt, enlisted in 1914. He was 
promoted to a Lieutenancy and decorated with 
the Legion of Honor. He later became Com- 
missioner of Police at Brazzarville. 

Etchevarry, a French convict, escaped from 
French Guiana, made his way to the United 
States and returned to France, under an as- 
sumed name, to fight for his native land. He 
enlisted in the Foreign Legion. He made an 
enviable record. But he was recognized and 
ordered to return to the penal settlement. Meas- 
ures were taken in his behalf by the Society of 
the Rights of Men, in response to whose ap- 
peal President Poincare signed a reprieve. 
Etchevarry returned to the front a free man, in 
December, 1915. 

Nick Korneis, a Greek push-cart peddler, 
who used to sell bananas at Twenty-third 
Street and Avenue B, New York City, was dec- 
orated for bravery at Verdun, with the follow- 
ing citation: "Korneis, Nick, Legionnaire, 11th 
Company, Foreign Legion — Elite grenadier, 
who on August 20, 1917, won the admiration 



108 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

of all his comrades by his courage and contempt 
for danger. He led his comrades to the con- 
quest of a trench, which was defended with en- 
ergy, and which was captured along a distance 
of 1,500 yards, after several hours of bloody 
combat; — took single handed, numerous pris- 
oners; — already cited twice in Army Orders." 
Rene Betrand, New Jersey, was over two 
years on the front, a member of the Regiment 
Colonial of Morocco, which is part of the fa- 
mous 19th Army Corps. He received the Croix 
de Guerre for bravery, and at Douaumont, 
Oct. 4, 1915, the Legion of Honor for person- 
ally finishing off a Boche machine gun section 
and bringing in the gun. That is the record, 
a well built, uninjured man on board ship gave 
me when I asked him how he had earned the 
Legion of Honor, and why he wore the foura- 
gere of the Foreign Legion. In July, 1918, a 
man, same name, turned up in Paris decorated 
with nine medals, minus an arm and a leg, 
claiming his body bore more than 30 bullet and 
bayonet wounds. The gendarmes promptly ar- 
rested him as the world's greatest fakir, de- 
clared he had lost the arm and leg in a railroad 
accident and that five imprisonments instead of 
five citations composed his record. 



CHAPTER VI 

ENGLISHMEN AND RUSSIANS LEAVE 

About 350 Englishmen were with the Amer- 
icans in the same Battalion of the 2nd Legion. 
They had enlisted when the Huns were advanc- 
ing on Paris. Common peril drew the bravest 
of all countries to the front. Possibly, they 
were promised later transfer to the English 
Army; but, once in the Legion, they were as 
nuns in a convent, to do as told, dead to the 
outside world. 

An American writer has said, "England's 
greatest assets are patriotism and money." He 
overlooked the foundation of both — MEN, the 
Englishman who dares to do and does it. He 
knows his rights, and insists on them. 

After the Germans were driven back at the 
Marne and trench conditions established, these 
men demanded to be sent home to fight for 
their native land. They went to the Captain, 
who could not help. They went to the Colonel, 
who would not. They had the British Ambas- 
sador request their release from the French 

109 



no SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

War Department, with no better results. Ere 
they were transferred, the subject was brought 
up in the Chamber of Deputies. 

Just before they left, a number went to the 
company captain with their breakfasts, cups of 
black coffee, in their hands. 

"What is this, mon capitaine?" 

"Your little breakfasts, mes enfants." 

"This would not keep a chipping sparrow 
alive — let alone a man." 

"You received a half loaf of bread yester- 
day." 

"Yes, but we ate that yesterday." 

"Well, I am sorry. That is the regular ra- 
tions of the French Army. E cannot change it." 

Walking away, disgruntled, a cockney mut- 
tered to his comrade, — " 'E thinks we are 
blooming canaries !" 

The bull-dog tactics of the persistent English 
did not appeal to the officers of the Legion. 
Probably the last to go were Poole and Darcy, 
two powerful silent fellows, who were in hos- 
pital, delayed by unhealed wounds. 

Originally, there were two Darcy brothers. 
While making a machine gun emplacement, 
they heard a noise in front. One of the broth- 
ers with half the detachment went out to in- 



ENGLISHMEN AND RUSSIANS LEAVE in 

vestigate. The other stayed at work. A Ger- 
man shell dropped into the emplacement and 
killed, or knocked senseless, every man. Red 
Cross workers, who gathered together the mu- 
tilated and the shell-shocked Darcy, were star- 
tled to hear some one in front. Looking around, 
they saw the other Darcy drag his shattered 
limbs over the edge of a shell hole. He expired, 
saying, "The damned cowards ran away and 
left me." The others were all killed. 

In June, 1915, after six months of constant 
warfare, poor food, no furloughs, cold winter 
weather and scanty clothing had so brought 
down the morale of the men that they didn't 
care whether they lived or not. They were ab- 
solutely fed up to the limit on misery. 

Many Russian Jews volunteered, as had the 
English, to help France. Russia later called 
her subjects to the colors. Negotiations were 
under way in Paris to facilitate the exchange 
of Russians from the Foreign Legion to the 
Russian Army. They were informed that the 
Colonel had received orders to permit their re- 
turn to their native land. 

Possibly, the negotiations had been com- 
pleted, perhaps not. Perhaps the Colonel was 



ii2 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

not officially instructed. However, the Russian 
volunteers, relying on their information, when 
ordered to dig trenches, refused to do so. They 
demanded to be sent home. Officers argued 
with them and pointed out the penalty of refus- 
ing to obey when in front of the enemy. They 
didn't care, would not work, and could not be 
forced. So ten of the ringleaders were court- 
martialed, sentenced to death, taken out into 
the woods near the little village of Merfy, blind- 
folded — shot. Tearing the bandage from his 
eyes and baring his chest to the bullet, one cried 
out, "Long live France ; long live the Allies, but 
God damn the Foreign Legion !" 

Next morning the others refused to work 
again, — "You have killed our brothers. Kill 
us also — we are not afraid to die." They were 
not killed but were court-martialed and sen- 
tenced to fifteen years' penal servitude. 

The third morning, no one would work. 
These cheerful fatalists said, "We are Russians 
— our country calls us — we demand to go, and 
you tell us go to work. We will not work. You 
killed our brothers, kill us also. You may mu- 
tilate our bodies, but you cannot crush our 
souls." These also court-martialed, were sen- 
tenced to ten years' penal servitude. 



ENGLISHMEN AND RUSSIANS LEAVE 113 

There were many Russians. They showed 
no disposition to yield. The load was getting 
too heavy, — even for the broad shoulders of of- 
ficers of the Legion. The underground wire- 
less had been working. A sigh of relief went 
up when a high Russian official, breast covered 
with decorations, arrived from Paris. About 
the same time, orders came from the French 
headquarters to stop proceedings. The penal 
servitude sentences were not carried out; but 
they could not bring back the dead to life. 

Inside of one month, Battalion F of the 2nd 
Legion, to which the unhappy men belonged, 
was merged into others. In two months, the 
Russians were transferred to the Russian 
Army. Four months later, the Regiment had 
ceased to exist. 



CHAPTER VII 

TRENCHES 

The real, well-made, manicured trench is 
from two and a half to three feet wide and eight 
or ten feet deep. The narrower the trench, the 
better. It gives the least space for German 
shells to drop in and blow occupants out. The 
more crooked the trench the better. The enemy 
has smaller chance to make an enfilading (rak- 
ing lengthwise) fire. Here only are narrow- 
ness and crookedness virtues. 

Each trench is embellished with channels, 
mines, saps, tunnels, subterranean passages, 
and bomb proof structures of various sorts. Out 
in front, are from ten to fifty yards of barbed 
wire entanglements, through which a Jack rab- 
bit could not go without getting hung up. The 
German has about the same arrangement on his 
side. That piece of open ground between the 
German wire and the French wire is known as 
"No-Man's-Land." In the night, patrols of men, 
German and French, promenade this strip, to 

114 



TRENCHES 115 

guard against surprise attacks, and make ob- 
servations of the enemy. 

Patrols often meet in conflict. Some never 
come back. Others, wounded, must lie in shell 
holes, awaiting an opportunity to return. At 
the sign of an attack, darkness is lighted by 
star shells. It is then necessary for the patrol 
to get back to the wire-cut lane, or tunneled 
hole under the wires where they went out, their 
only refuge and chance for safety. 

Back of the first line trench is the second, 
back of that a third. In some places, there are 
a dozen lines of trenches, different distances 
apart, varying with local conditions. From 
the rear, at right angles, interweaving like 
meshes of a net, are the communication and 
auxiliary branches through which men bring 
up supplies, provisions and ammunition. 

In the front line trenches, in addition to the 
infantry's rifles and grenades, are machine guns 
and trench mortars. Around the second line, 
the 75's and field artillery. About the third 
line, with the reserves, stand heavy artillery. 
So, when one side attacks the other, they must 
cross that open "No-Man's-Land," go through 
these barbed wire entanglements, meet the rifle 
fire and grenades of the infantry, and those 



u6 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

three rows of artillery. You can readily see 
why the line remains stationary along the front 
for so long, also how, when it has been broken 
or bent, there has been such great loss of life. 

It was in a bomb proof shelter of a first line 
trench, in the middle of the night, at Sillery- 
Sur-Marne, that I ; met the "American," whose 
real name was Dubois. I did not then under- 
stand French and had been placed on guard by 
a French corporal who could not speak English. 
He pointed to the hole, then at the Boche 
trench opposite, and walked away. The post 
was well protected by sandbags and solid tim- 
bers overhead, with an observation hole, one 
inch deep by three inches wide, cut into armor 
plate, in front. The usual, intermittent war- 
fare was in progress, and it suddenly devel- 
oped into a battle. The post was out on an 
angle. Rifle clashes were all about. No one 
was near in the open trench. So, getting un- 
easy, I became afraid I was cut off or left 
behind. 

I started toward the trench just as a big shell 
burst there. I ducked back, concluded the shel- 
tered post was better than the open trench, 
then glued my eye on the 1x3 observation hole. 
Yes, no doubt, the Germans were advancing in 



TRENCHES 117 

mass formation. I could see, through the little 
hole, against the sky line, the bayonets on their 
guns. A noise near my ear compelled my at- 
tention. Then I felt and saw better. Those 
bayonets were hairs, sticking straight out from 
a big, fat, impudent rat, who sniffed along and 
looked through the hole squarely into my eye. 
I spat at the rat, which retreated a few inches, 
then stopped to await developments. This 
nerve angered me and I started to go outside 
to throw a rock at the rodent, when a voice 
behind said in English, — "Damn it, that cussed 
sergeant has plugged it up." 

From the shelter ! could see a nondescript 
figure clad in an old, abbreviated batn-robe, tas- 
sels hanging down in front, shoes unlaced, rifle 
in hand, ruefully gazing at a new stack of sand- 
bags, which blocked a small exit into "No- 
Man's-Land." He might have been a soldier 
but he did not look it. He might have been 
French, but America was stamped all over that 
free-moving, powerful figure, in his quick act- 
ing, decisive manner and set jaws, square-cut, 
like a paving block. 

Thus, we two Americans, who had arrived 
from different directions, each animated by 
the same idea, sat down at the jumping off 



n8 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

place amid those unnatural surroundings and 
got acquainted. 

It was bizarre. The devilishness, the beauty, 
alternately, shocked the feelings or soothed the 
senses. Darkness and grotesque shadows, 
intermingled with colored illumination, scat- 
tering streams of golden hail, followed by red 
flame and acolytes, while sharp, white streaks 
of cannon fire winked, blinked, and were lost in 
the never-ending din. Between the occasional 
roll of musketry and the rat-rat-tat-tat of 
machine guns, we watched the pyrotechnic 
display and talked. 

Yes, he was an American, and had been ten 
months without a furlough. He had been out 
in front sniping all the afternoon. That cheap- 
skate sergeant, who is always nosing around, 
must have missed him and closed up the outlet. 

"Yes," he soliloquized, "the world is not fit 
to live in any more. The Kaiser has mobilized 
God Almighty. The Crown Prince said he 
could bring the Devil from hell with his brave 
German band. The Mexicans broke up my 
business and destroyed my happy home. Here 
in France, they made me take off my good 
clothes and don these glad rags. This bath 
robe is all I have left of my ancient grandeur — 



TRENCHES 119 

and there is not much of it, but it is all wool 
and a yard wide — not as long as it used to be, 
but it is warm. I know it looks like hell, but it 
is a sort of comfort to me, and is associated with 
happier days. 

"Yes," he ruminated, "if I am not careful I 
won't have enough left to make a pocket hand- 
kerchief. Here I have taken five or six pair 
of Russian socks from it, and bandaged up 
Pierre's wound, and I only have enough for 
four more pairs of socks after I have taken 
some pieces to clean my rifle with." 

He was a man of unusual history, even for 
the Legion. Some months previous, seeing an 
Alsatian officer strike a small man, the Amer- 
ican stepped up and said : "Why don't you take 
a man your own size?" For answer the officer 
pulled a revolver and thrust it at his breast. 
Dubois, gazing down through the eyes of the 
officer, clear into his heart, said: "Shoot, damn 
you, shoot. You dare not; you have not got 
the nerve !" 

He was an expert gymnast. He played the 
piano, accompanying the singers at concerts, 
during repose. When encored, he came back 
with a song in French. In conquered Alsace, 
he spoke German with the natives. 



120 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

On the day we made the 48-kilometer march 
to the summit of Ballon d'Alsace and back, 
while the company was resting Dubois was 
striding" up and down, knapsack on back, 
hands in pockets. I said: ''What are you 
doing? Can't you sit down and rest?" 

"Oh," he replied, "I was telling the lieuten- 
ant that instead of poking along with these 
short, fiddling steps, the men should march out 
like this, — like we do in America !" It is a fact 
that the French take the longest strides, and 
are the best marchers in the world ! 



CHAPTER VIII 

JULY 4, 1915 

Several American journalists, "May their 
tribe increase!" among them Mr. Grundy, of 
the New York Sun ; Nabob Hedin, of the Brook- 
lyn Eagle; Mr. Mower, of the Chicago Daily 
News; Mr. Roberts, of the Associated Press, 
and Wythe Williams, of the New York Times, 
presented a petition to the Minister of War for 
the Americans to celebrate Independence Day 
in Paris. It was granted. The good news 
made a bigger noise on the front than the 
heaviest bomb that ever fell. It did not seem 
possible, — too good to be true ! 

Previously, no one, French or foreigner, 
soldier or officer, had been allowed to leave his 
post. From then on, everyone received his 
regular furlough at stated intervals — more 
liberal as danger lessened. Now, each man is 
granted ten days every four months. 

Evening of July 3d I was on guard in front 
of Fort Brimont, three kilometers from 
Rheims, when Dubois put his head around a 

121 



122 



SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 




JULY 4, 191 5 123 

corner and yelled, "Come on, we are going to 
Paris." I paid no attention to him. I had not 
asked for a furlough, and, of course, did not 
expect any. 

A few minutes later Dubois roared, "Come 
on, you fool, don't you know enough to take a 
furlough when you can get one ? All Americans 
can go to Paris." When the corporal came 
around I asked to be relieved, went to the cap- 
tain and was told we had forty-eight hours per- 
mission; to pack up at once and go. 

We walked through the communication 
trenches to battalion headquarters among fall- 
ing shells. These made Dubois stop and say: 
"Damn it, it would just be my luck to get killed 
now; I would not mind if I were coming back 
from Paris, but if the Boche get me now I 
shall not be able to rest in my grave." 

At the battalion headquarters we were lined 
up in the darkness. An officer with a flashlight 
read off the names. Each man stepped out and 
received his furlough as his name was called. 
The officer stopped reading, Dubois still stood 
in line. Then he stepped up, saluted, and asked 
for his furlough. There was none. 

It was a dramatic moment. Sergeant 
Bouligny came out from the darkness, and a 



124 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

spirited argument occurred between him and 
the officer. The American sergeant then came 
over to Dubois and said : "It's a damned shame. 
They held that five years (suspended sentence 
for sleeping, when lost by a patrol in 'No- 
Man's-Land') over you. Now, man to man, I 
want you to promise me you will go right back 
to your company. I told them you would. I 
stood good for you. The colonel must sign that 
furlough. He is not here and we can't do a 
thing to help you." It was sad. The poor 
fellow was crushed. We walked away, leav- 
ing him in the darkness with his bitter thoughts. 

We arrived at Thill near midnight and were 
depositing our equipment at the guardhouse 
when a guard came and said to me : . "The 
sentinel wishes to see you." I went out and 
there was old Tex Bondt! "Yes," he said, "I 
am sentinel tonight. Last night I was in 
prison. This is it, the prisoners are out work- 
ing. I drew eight days for trying to be reason- 
able. Reason is all right in its place, but not 
in the army. They nearly worked me to death. 
We were carrying timbers to the front line to 
make dugouts — three men to a stick. I was in 
the middle and I am six foot three !" 

Next morning Bouligny and I tried to find 



JULY 4, 191 5 125 

some breakfast. The town was deserted, 
badly shot-up. Stores were empty, civilians 
gone. Prospects looked bad, when a gunny- 
sack was drawn back from a doorway, and a 
voice yelled out, in English: "Here, where 
in the devil are you fellows going? Come up 
and have a cup of coffee." It was Tony Pollet, 
of Corona, New York.* 

In the early morning we walked fifteen kil- 
ometers to the railroad and waited for the other 
Americans to arrive. Capdeville found some 
grease. Sweeney went to a French camp and 
talked some potatoes from them. So we ate 
"French fried," with wine, till the train started 
for Paris. 

Dr. Van Yorst was ranking officer, but 
Morlae and Sweeney sparred for ground. Said 
Morlae to Delpeshe: "You do that again and 
I will turn you over to the gendarmes." Del- 
pesche replied: "Who in hell are you? I am 
taking no orders from you. I belong to Ser- 
geant Sweeney's section!" 

Soubiron had the time of his life. He rode 

* In October, 1917, dressed in the French uniform, I was walking 
up the street near the Grand Central Station, New York. A civilian 
accosted me in French. We conversed in that language for some 
time. He worked the third degree, asked about Battalion D, and 
mentioned several names of men I knew. I turned on him and said, 
"You must have known Tony Pollet." The civilian stopped short, 
finally found his voice, and gasped out, "Pollet? — that's me!" 



126 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

down on the foot-board of the coach. He was 
determined not to miss the green fields, the 
lovely flowers and the smiles of the girls, as 
they wished the Americans "Bon Voyage." 
Everything was beautiful after the drab and 
dirt of the front. 

On the platform at Paris the two sergeants 
were still disputing. A petite Parisienne 
stepped up to Sweeney, saying: "Pardon, 
Monsieur, you came from near Rheims; did 
you see anyone from the 97th Regiment on the 
train?" The 97th had been badly cut up. 
Sweeney remembered that. In an instant his 
face changed. He smiled back at the girl and 
answered: "No, there were no French permis- 
sionaires; only Americans were on the train." 

Two days later each man was relating his 
experiences: 

The base-ball man from San Francisco: 
"Yes, I arrived in Paris without a sou. I saw 
you fellows scatter in all directions, and did not 
know what to do with myself. Two French 
ladies came along and invited me home with 
them. They paid all my expenses and gave me 
this five franc note and a sack of food to eat on 
my way back." 

Percy: "That New York Sun man, Grundy, 



JULY 4, 1915 127 

found five of us at the Cafe de la Paix. He 
ordered dinner. It cost him 120 francs. That 
was the best dinner I ever ate, but, Lord, I wish 
I had the money it cost!" 

Nelson: "Yes, my patron almost threw a 
fit when I blew in, but the best of the house 
was at my service, good bath, clean under- 
clothes — don't know where they came from, 
or whom they belonged to. But they insisted 
on my keeping them." 

Morlae: "Yes, I was up at the Embassy, 
saw Frazier and he told me . . ," 

Bob Scanlon : "My friends were out of town 
but left word that I should have the best there 
was. So I went up to Place Pigalle and 
inquired for a girl I knew, Susie, and they 
fished out a man six foot high!" 

Dowd : "Yes, that Frenchman was splendid. 
When he learned we were Americans he invited 
us to the banquet given by the American 
Chamber of Commerce at the Palais d'Arsay. 
There was just one table of us soldiers of the 
Legion and two long tables of men from the 
American Ambulance. The Frenchmen were 
glad to see us — the Ambulance men did not 
seem glad at all. 

" 'How is that,' said an American visitor, 



128 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

speaking to a well-dressed, manicured doctor, 
'are tHere many Americans in the Legion?' 

" 'I don't know.' 
'Well, aren't there a good many of our boys 
there?' 

" 'There may be, but, of course, WE don't 
know them.' " 

Idaho Contractor: "Yes, you fellows can 
talk about what you ate. When I got over to 
Place Clichy, it was 9 o'clock. Madame" was 
closing up- — all she had left was beans and 
vinegar. I had had no vinegar for ten months. 
Beans must be bad for the stomach. My appe- 
tite went wrong just the time I needed it most. 
I did not enjoy myself at all." 

Van Vorst: "Yes, I went over to Pickpus 
and saw the American Ambulance. They 
looked very nice and clean but did not rec- 
ognize the dirty soldiers from the Legion, but 
the French officers did." 

Bouligny: "I missed everything, did not 
know there was anything doing any place. 
Thought the 4th was on Sunday; didn't know 
they were holding 4th on the 5th." 

Narutz: "Yes, I had a bully time. Met 
some old friends at the American Express 
Company's office." 



JULY 4, 1915 129 

Seeger: "I heard Sweeney was promoted to 
a lieutenancy." 

Capdeville : "What do you think I am carry- 
ing this American flag for? Of course, I am 
going to use it." 

Delpesche: "What are all you fellows car- 
rying in those packages? You look like a lot 
of farmers who just received a consignment 
from Sears-Roebuck." 

King: "Yes, we bought this dollar stuff 
cheap, just 98 cents and freight." 



CHAPTER IX 

OUTPOST LIFE 

In front of Croane, where, in 1814, Frank and 
Hun fought for mastery, one hundred years 
later, the same nations again battled. 

The elaborate, naturally drained trench 
system of to-day was not. Instead of the 
horizon blue, the French soldier wore the old 
red pantaloons and dark blue coat. Occa- 
sionally new blue uniforms were sent to the 
front, which, wet a couple of times — the new 
dyes not holding — quickly become drab. Torn 
clothes, ripped, crawling through barbed wire, 
are held together by finer wires. New York 
Heralds and Daily Mails wrapped around socks 
to help keep in the heat, warm not alone the 
cockles of the heart, but the soles of the feet. 
No smoking cook-kitchen, with steaming ket- 
tles filled with tasty food followed our ranks 
on march. Soup dishes and kettles are carried 
on knapsack, as in the days of Napoleon. At 
the end of a long march, at bivouac time, if the 
commissary has not made connection weary 

130 



OUTPOST LIFE 131 

soldiers throw their kettles away. If caught, 
eight days in prison, they welcome as relief. 

The Germans held Croane — the French and 
Germans, alternately, occupied the village of 
Croanelle, dominated by the fortress of Croane. 
This was before the days of the present heavy 
bombardment, and many of the deserted houses 
were still intact, beds unmade, dishes yet upon 
table, furnished, but vacant. Cattle, tied to 
mangers, lay dead in their stalls. In cellars, 
where combatants had tunneled through to 
connect, the dead of both sides lay impaled 
on bayonets. One Frenchman's teeth were at 
a German's throat, locked in combat, even in 
death. 

Out between the lines lay the unburied dead, 
in all shapes and conditions of rot, settled in 
the mud, half buried in open shell holes. Dried 
fragments of uniforms flapped on barbed wire 
through which the wounded had crawled into 
sheltered corners and died. No need to tell a 
patrol when, in winter darkness, as he stepped 
on a slippery substance, what it was — he knew. 
In the spring grass grew around and through 
these inanimate shapes. Rats and dogs waxed 
fat as badgers. 

From the day the 2d Regiment went into 



132 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 



Pat Stftsrtmrai 

<6ttms{ BjjioI of fljs (ftartermastrr'a Srparttnrnt 



September 14th, 19C8. 



*fr*~ 

3 am birrrtra bg tbt (^uartrrmastsr-ffcorrHl of Mj» Armu, to fonasrb bft rrglattrra mall. 
to Ujj aoartfB giota briow, a brorer mritti. numBtr*b #1124, , whirl} bwb authortob by 
ftp? Art of Gtongrtsa spprmab Shot 29, JSD8, lo fee nrfgcntrii In tljaflT mra of % nohmtms 
aab rartabt of tljt regular troops of tb» Aran, of tbr piiliopbHta who mm rttrollrb aao tntUbft' 
for thr in mttl) S'patn. atib tuho ar rm?b otgonb tiji- if rat of llriir rolistmntts to \xeia BtruprJw. 
tfcr Jbjttpptet Snaarwrttoa. 

In a cablegram oatro Jtolg 1. 1899. to ^rurrsl (Site at Manila, lb* Pwalbftttof Ih* 
Hnitri *taJru romifin'b the following expressions of appreciation for tbr military arroiw tbua 
rmtereb. 

"$Jjf JljTHtefHt afalrui to rxarrsa, *a tffp must pabilr maiutpr. ijifi aupmbttitui of fii* tafia, 
patriotism ebuittii by tlir tfotaturrrs aab t£$tttars of tt>r mil Armu if m'ua. iit urrfanuiiia nriiimti - 
srriiUT tbrnu^b scBttT rarapaiartB mtb bafSrs aaatuat lit? Insurgents In smana. when, miare llic 
trcatfl nf tfyetr jftilifitttantte. tb?« tsaafa fjaa* beta rattHert tit uustitargp nana tbr- ratif icatuni at" ttiy 
trratg uitJh Spain, tjlyus arHrm oa liira.'^ajrl sua ucal* aab hrrair. 91 unit ataiu> I'm Hi as s» 
xxsatab? af the arlf-sarrttin? aaa yublu toaaMrattaa inbjtl; tiaac pwr rbsraitrrisfb tin- AumrUaa 
Bilotpr." ■» 

" 3bj moRnttuta trfnrfaf 3 arjaU roaauaeoa Jo ffiaagrf&a ibaT a aaeriat airftat at ijannr br 
glata la ttjt afiirtra aab boIMwd of tip Sttt Atata (Carp* bjIm at rfnrrare Djts «rrjt ataii noitjMiai-Ufi 
aai roniuatasJitalls for tlirh laaulrjl."— SltlltiBO fflrJCtattu- 

Brry reapntfullu. 



iBaiBt anb !{?oart»rma<itrv. H. *. Arwu. 
3n ii'ljartif of Sr{U)t 



JJaawof ftolbi»r.. ..Joha.jaftna,. .. .. 
aUttaxB **raia..-..C-0.. ?J3?..iaS& Kiim*. Inf . 
j?o»t ®8fiu-t Aborts* . Canliyj Kina. 




OUTPOST LIFE 



133 



Croanelle till it was relieved, six months later, 
no German soldier who set foot in the shallow 
trench went back. Our 
regiment, repeatedly re- 
inforced, was kept at full 
strength. 

Americans there en- 
dured pain and suffer- 
ing, the depth of which 
Washington's Army at 
Valley Forge never 
reached. Those old Con- 
tinentals had nothing in 
discomfort on these 
modern heroes in front 
of Croan e. Washing- 
ton's Army, in their own 
country, had access to 
the necessities of life. 
They held communion 
with their fellows. These 
later-day Americans, un- 
der the hardest discipline 
in the world, were cut 
off from civilization. They were back to the 
age of barter and exchange. Money would not 
buy goods — there was nothing to be bought — 




UNITED STATES CON- 
GRESSIONAL MEDAL 

(Reverse side reads) 

FOR 

PATRIOTISM 

FORTITUDE 

AND 

LOYALTY 



134 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

but if one man had a little tobacco, and another 
man a pair of socks, they would swap. 

No furloughs were granted the first ten 
months. Every letter was censored. Packages 
of comforts, sent by friends, were stolen or con- 
fiscated en route. They were in a foreign coun- 
try, whose language many could not speak. 
They had left good, comfortable homes for 
these holes in the ground, called trenches by 
courtesy, where one waded to his post on guard, 
rifle in hand, and carried a wisp of straw or a 
piece of plank on which to lie to keep from 
sinking into slime and slush, which covered his 
clothes with mud and filled his bones with 
rheumatism. 

It was near midnight, the relief was in the 
basement of a shot-up chateau. The guard, on 
a scaffold, peering through loopholes made in 
a stone wall, was watching Rockwell sentinel 
at the advance output and alongside. They 
saw him stop, heard a familiar sound (the strik- 
ing of a grenade cap), but it was in the rear. 
Suddenly Rockwell yelled, "Aux Armes." Met- 
teger, the burly Alsatian corporal, ran out, just 
in time to catch the explosion of a German 
grenade, and was killed. Rockwell, standing 



OUTPOST LIFE 135 

between the grenade and the corporal, was so 
thin the charge missed him and lodged in the 
fat man. Simultaneously, the guard at the wall 
heard a rush, a noise, a rattle of musketry from 
behind, and turned about face. The relief 
rushed out of the basement. The Germans, 
caught between two fires, cursing, disappeared 
into the darkness. 

When the guard turned to repel the attack- 
ers, they jumped from the scaffold to the 
ground. Capdeville's hair was singed by a 
bullet, a ball went through Soubiron's cartridge 
belt. When Brooks, the cockney Englishman, 
jumped, another Englishman, Buchanan, fell 
on him, pushed his face into the ground and 
filled his mouth with mud. Brooks struck out 
and hit Buchanan, who tried to get away to 
chase the Boche. "You blankety, blank, blank." 
Biff ! biff ! biff ! "You will, will you ?" The two 
Englishmen were still fighting when the guard 
came back. Buchanan had discovered that 
some one had made his gun unworkable, tramp- 
ing mud into the magazine. He stopped and 
had it out with Brooks. 

It was at La Fontenelle and Ban de Sapt, La 
Viola and Viola Nord, opposite St. Marie aux 



136 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Mines, in reconquered Alsace, among the 
Vosges on the Franco-German frontier. Seven 
long, weary months we spent among those per- 
pendicular mountains, with sunburned base 
and snowy, dripping tops. Dog trains carried 
provisions in winter. Pack mules clamber in 
summer, wearing breeching to keep from slip- 
ping down hill. 

The continuous snows of winter, and the 
ceaseless flow of water down the middle of the 
trench in summer, while it also dripped from 
the roof of the dugout, and seeped up from the 
ground below, dampened both clothes and 
spirits, as we carried wet blankets and our 
misery about, up among the clouds of mist, in 
drizzles, sleet, snow and the intense cold. A 
sieve was a water-tight compartment compared 
to those shut-up dugouts. 

The constant bombardment often changed so 
completely the topography of the mountains, 
one could hardly be sure when daylight came 
that he was the same man, or in the same place, 
as he was the night before. 

We were beyond civilization. Not a flower, a 
garden, a cow, a chicken, a house with a door or 
window, or roof, not a civilian or a woman was 
to be seen. All work or fight, no recreation, it 



OUTPOST LIFE 137 

was a long, continued suffering. We had the 
Boche part of the time, bad weather all the 
time. 

The trenches were so close together we 
fought with grenades instead of rifles. The 
wire in front, thrown out loose from the trench 
behind, was all shot up. The trench itself from 
continued bombardment was thirty or forty 
feet across the top, with just a narrow path 
down the middle, where one walked below the 
ground level. The hills were a wilderness of 
craters, blown out trenches with unexploded 
shells about. 

Crosses leaning over dead men's graves, 
were littered with ragged, empty sandbags, 
while pieces of splintered timber, tangled wire, 
mingled with broken boulders and lacerated 
tree trunks of all lengths and thickness. Holes 
grew now where trees had stood. Roots and 
stumps, upturned, replaced splintered branches 
and scorched, withered leaves. A few strag- 
gling, upright trunks, eighty to one hundred 
feet in the air, were festooned with sections of 
blown-up barbed wire. 

The towns belonged to the dead, wholly de- 
serted by civilians, with even the old women 
gone. Roofless, doorless, windowless ruins, 



138 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

twisted iron girders and fantastically broken 
walls, stood out against the sky, grimly elo- 
quent, though silent, monuments of kultur. 

Face to face with death, what is in a man 
comes out. I : shall never forget one, who, right 
name unknown, came from Marseilles. We 
used to call him "Coquin de Dieu." He had 
some system whereby he got extra wine — even 
at the front. That additional cup or two was 
just enough to make him happy and start him 
singing. Handsome as a woman, he looked the . 
careless, reckless ne'er-do-well. During a ter- 
rific bombardment, I was sent to relieve him, 
out between two German outposts, one eight, 
the other fifteen yards away. Instead of going 
to the safety of the sap in the rear, that French- 
man insisted on staying with me. Germans 
broke into the French trench at the adjoining 
post, and went to the right. Had they come 
left, we would have been the first victims. 

There was little Maurice, just twenty, who 
had been through the whole campaign. When 
dodging shells, he could drop quicker than a 
flapper and come up laughing every time. 

Maribeau, eighteen, only a boy, always 
objected to throwing grenades. "No, I won't — 
I promised my mother and my father I would 



OUTPOST LIFE 139 

not become a grenadier and I won't." One 
night during a Boche grenade attack, he and 
everyone else had to work for self-preservation. 
He liked it and became a splendid bomb 
thrower. 

Was with Renaud, an old 170th boy, .and 
Marti, on post, during a Boche bombardment 
and attack. Marti was killed by a grenade. 
A crapouillot fell into the trench behind. I 
was pretty busy throwing grenades, but caught 
a glimpse of a stray sergeant pulling Renaud 
under cover. Several days later, noticing a 
haversack hanging on the side of the trench, 
I wondered why it was there so long, also 
whose it might be. Inside was a piece of bread 
and a flat tin plate perforated by shell and 
splinters. Scribbled on the plate was the name, 
"Renaud." 

Big, strong, impulsive, was my marching 
companion, Peraud. He loved his wife and 
hated war. When thinking about war his face 
had so deadly an expression, no one dared dis- 
turb him. When his thought was of his wife, 
he looked a glorified choir boy. Once in Lor- 
raine, during repose, he and his companion, 
Perora, a theological student, invited me to a 
church to hear the cure lecture on Jeanne 



140 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

d'Arc. While the student and the cure con- 
versed, Peraud rang^ the bell which brought the 
soldier congregation. 

Marching behind him, Indian file, through 
the trenches one dark night, I missed the barrel 
of his rifle against the sky line, and stopped 
just in time to prevent falling on top of Peraud, 
who had stumbled into a sap filled with the 
slush and slime that run from the trench bot- 
toms. It wasn't necessary to watch the rifle 
after that. I could follow by the smell. 

It was in the trenches I first met him. Boche 
bombardment had knocked out the wooden 
posts that braced the sides of the trench. Dirt 
had fallen in and dammed the running water. 
We were detailed to walk, knee deep, into the 
horrible slush, and bring those dirty, dripping 
posts, on our shoulders, to dry land. Suddenly 
he stopped, took a look and asked: "Comrade, 
what was your business in civil life?" "I was 
engaged in commerce. And you?" "Me? I 
am an artist." 

Our sergeant spoke a little English. He was 
a good sort, who, owning a garage in civil life, 
had met many Americans and thought they 
were decent enough to invite acquaintance. One 
afternoon, during a bombardment, he, Peraud, 



OUTPOST LIFE 141 

Perora, Rolfe and Tardy were in a sap. Too 
careless to go below, they stood on the top step, 
in the doorway, sheltered from behind and on 
both sides. There was just the four-foot square 
opening- in front. A shell dropped into that 
opening, killed four, and left Tardy standing 
alone. He was a brave soldier before, but no 
good after that. 

Peraud and Perora had been bosom friends. 
They came from the same neighborhood, were 
wounded and sent to the same hospital, both 
changed into the 163d Regiment. Together 
they were killed by the same shell. 

Comrade Deporte was an old 170th man. 
Names, being indexed alphabetically, always, 
at the end of a long march, Bowe and Deporte 
were put on guard, with no chance to cool off 
after packing the heavy sacks up the moun- 
tain side. Our cotton shirts, soaked with per- 
spiration, felt like a board as the body rapidly 
cooled during the silent, motionless guard. 
1 Deporte was a revelation in human nature. 
Unselfish, he did the most arduous and often 
unnecessary work without a murmur. We 
were always together on guard and frequently 
drew the bad places. Once, during a five-hour 
bombardment, isolated, impossible to get relief 



142 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

to us, he did not complain. Another time, hear- 
ing a suspicious noise in front, I threw a gre- 
nade. We got such an avalanche in return it 
almost took our breath away — and Deporte 
laughed ! Home on furlough, he overstayed 
his leave five days and drew sixty days prison. 
He smiled — it was sixty days on paper ! 

One fine day we two were taken out in front 
during a bombardment. Captain Anglelli, with 
two holes in his helmet where a sniper's bullet 
went in and out at Verdun, explained the situa- 
tion to Deporte: 

"You have the grenades?" 

"Oui, mon capitaine." 

"You see this hill?" 

"Oui, mon capitaine." 

"It is higher than that trench." 

"Oui, mon capitaine." 

"You can throw into there?" 

"Oui, mon capitaine." 

"The Boche will come through there." 

"Oui, mon capitaine." 

"You can hit him, he cannot reach you." 

"Oui, mon capitaine." 

"The American will stay with you?" 

"Oui, mon capitaine." 

"Bomb hell out of them !" 



OUTPOST LIFE 143 

"Oui, mon capitaine." 

"Hold them there and we will bag them." 

"Oui, mon capitaine." 

Smiling, the captain patted Deporte on the 
shoulder. Deporte, looking squarely into his 
eyes, grinned back. They understood each 
other, those two. It was not superior ordering 
inferior. It was man to man. 

I should' like to tell all that happened that 
afternoon. It was the wind-up of a week's 
bombardment, and we had a ripping time dodg- 
ing about to avoid being maimed for life. We 
held a mountain top on the frontier. The Ger- 
mans had the peaks opposite, where they had 
planted their heavy artillery. When the French 
drove back the invading Germans, the lines 
stopped within bombing distance — about thirty 
yards. We had the upper line, they the lower. 
We could throw grenades on them, but it was 
hard for them to reach us. So they planted 
their line with trench-mortars that throw- 
aerial torpedoes, crapouillots and bombs the 
size of a stovepipe, also others which resemble 
a two-gallon demijohn. They came slow. We 
could see them — the wide-nosed torpedoes 
coming direct, the stovepipes hurtling end 
over end. 



144 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

These visible shells are only good for short 
range. We dodged them, but they kept us 
constantly on the move. The captain's trench 
was flattened out — no need to watch that any 
more. The bombardment increased. Long 
range artillery from the mountains joined the 
short range mortars. The black smoke and 
noise from the Jack Johnsons and the yellow 
smoke from bursting shrapnel did not attract 
our attention from those three-finned torpedoes 
and hurtling crapouillots. 

We would dodge for one but a half dozen 
might drop before we could look around. 
Deporte was buried by one explosion. I had 
to pull him out of the dirt. A big rock came 
flying down the trench, then a piece of timber 
four feet long. Two pieces of metal fell on my 
helmet which I picked up and have yet. They 
were burning hot, not iron or steel, but copper 
and nickel. 

At a shout in front, we grabbed grenades and 
saw to the left a crowd of men running toward 
our lines, French and German. Later we 
learned how eighteen Frenchmen went over to 
the German blockhouse across the way, gave 
the forty occupants a chance to surrender, of 
which eleven took advantage. Revolvers and 



OUTPOST LIFE 145 

bombs finished the others. Two Frenchmen, 
both my friends, were wounded. 

The Germans did not seem to like it. They 
got more angry and threw all kinds of metal 
at our dodging heads. An orderly rushed 
around the corner and yelled: "Fall back, 
orders from the capitaine." He scurried away. 
We found a sap. I was thirty feet down when 
I looked up and saw Deporte standing at the 
opening unbuttoning his vest. Steam and 
perspiration formed a circle around him, such 
as is seen about an aeroplane flying high 
against the sun. About thirty feet down into 
that sap the steps turned a right angle, then 
again changed direction. We sat beyond the 
second turning, lighting a candle as fast as the 
inrush of air, made by the bursting shells, blew 
it out. A couple of hours later, when we looked 
for the hill we had held, it was gone. Immense 
craters yawned where had been our regular 
trenches. The rows of trenches were as waves 
of an angry sea, while the ground between was 
pitted and scarred beyond recognition. 



CHAPTER X 

CHAMPAGNE ATTACK 

The night before the attack of September 25, 
1915, Bouligny and I went over to Battalion C. 
He picked up a piece of cheese that Morlae had. 
Munching away, he demanded, "Where did you 
get this?" 

"In Suippe." 

"I thought we were forbidden to go out." 

"We are." 

"How did you get by?" 

"I told the sentry I did not speak French, 
showed him my old Fourth of July pass, and 
walked through." 

Bouligny said: "Well, we will eat this 
cheese so they'll have no evidence against you." 

Morlae replied: "We shall need somebody 
to help carry the load we have stacked up." 

"What have we got?" inquired Casey. 

"Two canteens of wine instead of one." 

"Good," said Casey. 

"And 250 rounds of cartridges instead of 
120," called Nelson. 

146 



CHAMPAGNE ATTACK 147 

"And a steel helmet, instead of a cloth cap," 
from Dowd. 

"And four days' reserve of food instead of 
two," added King. 

"And a new knife for the nettoyers" (mop- 
pers-up), put in Scanlon. 

"And a square white patch of cloth sewed on 
our backs, so our own artillerymen can recog- 
nize and not blow us up," finished John Laurent. 

"I'd rather be here, leaning against this tree," 
said Chatcoff, "than in little old New York, 
backed against a telephone pole, trying to push 
it into the North River." 

"Yes," agreed Seeger, "this is the life. The 
only life worth living is when you are face to 
face with death — midway between this world 
and the next." 

For one week the Legion had marched each 
night fifteen kilometers to the front, dug 
trenches and returned to camp in the early 
morning. Again that night we went out, and 
daylight, September 25, found us estab- 
lished in a badly demolished trench from 
which we emerged at the time set for the 
attack, 9:15. 

The four hours between daylight and the 
attack were passed under a furious bombard- 



148 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

ment. Many were killed or wounded while we 
waited to go over the top. 

The French had, unknown to the Germans, 
brought up their 75 cannon and dug them down 
in another trench 25 yards behind us. The din 
was terrific. Smoke screens and gas shells 
nearly blinded us. Men were uneasy and 
dodged. The captain caught a fellow flopping. 
"Here, you young whelp, don't you know that 
noise comes from our own guns behind?" 

Pera, a Tunis Jew, tore open his first aid 
bandage and we filled our ears with cotton to 
deaden the noise. 

The attack was carried out by seven long 
lines of soldiers advancing two yards apart, 
each line about 100 yards behind the other. 

The Colonials and Moroccans had the first 
line, the Legion the second. Owing to the 
Germans' concentrated fire on our trenches and 
on the outlets, each man did not get out two 
yards from the next. Frequently the other 
man was dead or wounded. But the objective 
was the Ferme Navarin, and at 10:30 it was in 
our possession. 

A soldier's life, while of some concern to him- 
self, to an officer is but a means to an end. It 
is offered, or given, to get results. The best 



CHAMPAGNE ATTACK 149 

officer obtains the most results with the least 
loss. Some give wrong- orders and sacrifice 
their men. Others seem to grasp every open- 
ing for advancement and gain the objective 
with very little loss. 

In the first run to the outlet the slaughter 
was terrible. Stretcher bearers carried a con- 
tinuous stream of wounded with bloody band- 
ages on, silent, motionless, pale-faced, dirtily- 
clothed men, whose muddy shoes extended 
over the edge of the stretchers. 

Nearer the front line, the worse the carnage. 
Dead were lying so thick soldiers walked on 
upturned faces grazed by hob-nailed shoes. 
Side trenches were filled with wounded, wait- 
ing transportation. Some, injured in the hand, 
held it up watching the blood flow; others, hurt 
in the leg, were dragging that member along. 
Holding onto their stomachs were those whose 
blood was running down over their shoes. At 
one corner leaning against two corpses lay a 
young soldier, smooth shaven, curly-hair, mus- 
tache trimmed, his face settling into the 
soft, creamy whiteness of death, a smile on 
his lips. 

My mind flashed over to Madam Tussaud's 
wax figure exhibition in London. 



150 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Two Moroccans stopped. One pulled off his 
vest arid found a blackish red bruise on his 
chest. His comrade said : "It is nothing, come 
along." The other fell over, dead. A Zouave, 
with back broken, or something, unable to get 
up, eyes rolling into his head, twisted his body 
in agony. The doctor, walking away, said: 
"No chance. Leave him; blood poison." 

The Germans had a sure range on the outlet. 
Wounded men, walking back in the trench, 
were jostled and knocked about by strong, run- 
ning men, forcing themselves to the front. 
Shells were falling all around as we ran into 
"No-Man's-Land." Machine guns were out on 
the slope, "rat-tat-tat-tat," a continuous noise. 
Men lying behind guns, rifle shooting, working, 
cursing, digging trenches, throwing dirt, mak- 
ing holes. 

At every corner stood calm, square-faced, 
observing officers directing, demanding, com- 
pelling. What are such men in civil life. Why 
do we never see them? 

In the open I' stopped and took a quick look 
around. The only man I knew was Crotti, an 
Italian. He spoke in English: "Where is the 
Legion?" The officer overheard. His face 
changed. He did not like that alien tongue just 



CHAMPAGNE ATTACK 151 

then, but understood, and smiling, said: "The 
Legion is there." 

They were crawling up a shallow trench, 
newly made in open ground, at an angle of 45 
degrees from us. We did not try to force our 
way back into the trench against that crowd, 
so kept out on top and joined our comrades, 
who laughed when they saw us running in from 
where the Boche was supposed to be. 

The man alongside puts on his bayonet as 
the order is passed down the line to go over on 
command. The officers snap out: "Five min- 
utes, three minutes, one minute, En Avant!" 
The Colonials, the Moroccans and the Legion- 
naires, all mixed up, arrive about the same time. 
Up, and over the Boche line trench. Where is 
the wire? It has been blown away by artil- 
lery. Instead of deep, open trenches, we find 
them covered over! Swarming we go up on 
top the covered trenches then turn and throw 
bombs in at the port-holes from which the Ger- 
mans are shooting. Boches run out at the 
entrances, climb from the dugouts, hands in air, 
crying, "Kamarad." 

More grenades inside and more German 
prisoners. The first line men keep going. Ger- 
man dead lie all about. German equipment i§ 



152 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

piled around; we pass the wounded, meet the 
living enemy. A running- Zouave met a Boche, 
who goes down with the Zouave's bayonet in 
his chest. The Zouave puts his foot on the 
man, pulls out the bayonet, and keeps on his 
headlong rush. 

An old, grey-haired Poilu met a Boche in 
square combat, bayonet to bayonet. The old 
man (his bayonet had broken) got inside the 
other's guard, forced him to the ground, and 
was choking him to death when another 
Frenchman, helping his comrade, pushed the 
old man aside in order to get a sure welt at the 
Boche. The old man, quick as a cat, jumped up. 
He thought another German was after him and 
recognized his comrade. The German sat up 
and stuck up his hands. The Frenchmen 
looked foolish — it would be murder ! Half a 
dozen Germans just then came from a dugout. 
That old man took his rifle with the twisted, 
broken bayonet, picked up a couple of German 
casques, and, lining the prisoners up, took them 
to the rear. Prisoners all about. One big Ger- 
man officer surrendered with a machine gun 
crew who carried their own gun. Unwounded 
prisoners lugged their wounded comrades on 
their backs while others limped along, leaning 



CHAMPAGNE ATTACK 153 

on comrades. Many had broken, bruised heads. 
Prisoners bore French wounded on stretchers. 
The dead lay in all directions, riddled, peppered 
by the 75's, mangled with high explosives, faces 
dried-blood, blackened. 

Behind the first line, into the newly-made 
communication trenches, noticed where dirt 
had been thrown to the bottom of the trench, 
walking on dead Germans' grazed faces bris- 
tling whiskers, partially covered with loose dirt, 
so that their bodies was not noticed by com- 
rades going to the front. Continued bombard- 
ment, more dead. Germans running, equip- 
ment strewn everywhere, black bread, cigars, 
many casques, more dead, broken caissons, 
dead horses, cannon deserted — their crews 
killed, Boche shells in lots of three lying about 
in wicker baskets. Trenches full of dead, legs, 
arms and heads sticking out. 

We followed the Germans into a maze of gas 
and got my eyes and lungs full. Then felt weak 
and comfortable. The Luxemburg corporal 
came along and pulled me out. Dropping be- 
hind, we finally came upon the Legion, waiting 
in a communication trench to flank the Ger- 
mans. A wonderful Legionnaire, with the face 
of a Greek god (shot in the stomach), came 



154 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

hobbling along on a" stick. He sat down and 
renewed an acquaintance with the corporal 
which had been started at Toulouse. 

Over the top again. A backward glimpse 
showed the wounded man hobbling behind us, 
back again to the front. I noticed the Legion- 
naires running, chin forward, bayonet fixed, 
greatly bunched, and thought the Germans 
could not miss hitting so many men. So, 
being the last man in the company, I kept run- 
ning along the outside. The corporal was 
killed going over. He fell into a shell hole 
among a lot of German wounded and dead. 
We were ordered to turn to the right, down this 
trench. I, the last man, became first. 

Blinded with gas, I blundered along, bayonet 
fixed, finger on trigger, stumbling over dead 
and wounded Germans, bumping into sharp 
corners of the trench, on into another gas maze, 
and across the second line trench. Someone 
pulled my coat from behind and I discovered 
that our men were going down that cross 
trench. So I fell in about the middle of the 
company, pumped the gas from my stomach, 
and by the time I was in shape again orders 
came that we should hold this trench, which 
had gradually filled with our men. 



CHAMPAGNE ATTACK 155 

It had rained all day. Racing through the 
trenches, dirt fell into the magazines of our 
rifles. It makes one furiously angry when the 
magazine will not work. I grabbed a rifle lay- 
ing alongside a man I thought dead. He was 
very much awake. He quite insisted on using 
his own gun. The next man was dead. He had 
a new rifle. I felt much better. 

If was impossible to stay in that crowded 
trench. I found a large shell hole in the open, 
eight feet deep, with water in the bottom. With 
shovel and pick, I dug out enough on the side 
of the crater to find dry ground and tried to 
sleep. I was awakened by officers who wished 
to make me go into the trenches." I did not un- 
derstand French. Those officers insisted I did. 
Of course, I did not. I knew they wanted the 
nice, comfortable place I had constructed for 
themselves. So, paid no attention, but covered 
up my head and tried to sleep. I could not. 
Then remembered something — ! had eaten no 
food for twenty-four hours. So soaked hard 
tack in the water at the bottom of the shell 
hole, dined, and then went to sleep in spite of 
the rain, the bombardment, and the homeless 
officers. 

Next day made another attack over the top. 



156 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Got into a Boche machine gun cross-fire; or- 
ders were to dig down. Noticed a large shell 
crater about 20 yards to the left, where a half 
dozen Poilu were laying in comfort below the 
earth level and fairly safe. Was crawling 
toward them on my stomach, with nose in the 
ground, when I felt the earth shake (impossible 
to hear in the never-ending cannon roar), 
looked up, and about 80 or 100 feet in the air, 
where they had rested on a teeter after going 
up and before coming down, — I saw a number 
of blue overcoats, and I looked over to the shell 
crater and saw it was larger, fresher and empty. 
However, I crawled over there and stayed till 
darkness relieved me. 

Those men were in comparative safety, while 
I was out in the open and exposed, yet they 
were killed, and I lived to tell about it. Soldiers 
naturally become fatalists, and will not be 
called till the shell comes along with his number 
on. They see a shell fall, a cloud of dirt and 
dust goes up — no damage done. Another shell 
falls, — a man stood there, — he goes up, — he was 
in the wrong place, at the wrong time, — and out 
of luck. Why worry? There are too many 
shells, and the one that gets you is the one you 
will never see. If it does not get you right then 



CHAMPAGNE ATTACK 157 

it is time enough to worry, — if it does you won't 
need to worry. 

On September 28, the Legion attacked the 
Bois Sabot or wooden shoe, a wooded eminence 
protected by fifty yards of barbed wire entan- 
glements, stretched, tree to tree, behind which 
bristled three rows of machine guns. About 
four o'clock, the Legion lined out to attack in 
a long row, a yard apart. The Germans watched 
our formation, their guns trained on the first 
wire, and waited. 

Finally, the Colonel said to a Sergeant, 
"Here, you take this section. Go over and 
wake them up." No one was anxious. The 
rifles of the Boche could be seen above their 
trenches. But Musgrave said, "Let's go over 
and stir them up and see what kind of a show 
they put up." The section went, 35 or 40 men. 
Just two, both Americans, Musgrave and Pa- 
velka, came back. 

That attack lasted all night. Daybreak was 
coming. All the officers had been killed, ex- 
cept a little squeaky voiced Lieutenant. He was 
afraid to give the order to retreat. But, day- 
light in sight, he finally said, "Gather up the 
wounded and go back to the trench we left." 
The dead were left in rows by hundreds, as thick 



158 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

as autumn leaves, each man on his stomach, face 
to the foe. 

Artillery was then brought up. Two days 
later, we again attacked. The wire and the 
whole mountain top had been blown away. The 
Germans we met were either dead, wounded 
or dazed. 



CHAPTER XI 

LIFE IN DEATH 

"If a man die, shall he live?" Aye — and that 
more abundantly ! 

We know that "except a corn of wheat fall 
into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but, 
if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit." Nature 
is constantly demonstrating Life as the mani- 
festation of Death. Nature's laws are the laws 
of God, to whom are all people subject. So, 
man, is passing his progress, into a higher, or 
lower, form of spirit continuance — as he may 
have chosen and prepared. 

They do not die, — who instil love of country, 
and the highest degrees of patriotism, in those 
who live. 

The materialistic profiteer, who shirks his 
duty, and fattens on the soldier's blood, — will 
die and pass away as a clod. But the soldier 
whose inspiring deeds will warm the blood of 
future generations has started a flame that will 
burn forever. 

i59 



160 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

When the materialist has cashed his coupons, 
he will find the money won't keep his body from 
being eaten up by the maggots. It may buy 
him a tombstone, but not the respect of loyal 
patriots who are willing to give their all, in 
order to live up to the traditions of those gone 
before. 

Stocks and bonds have a market value — but 
Honor and Liberty are beyond price. 

Spiritual life and power are of far greater 
value than vast material wealth. 

It was the materialism of the Kaiser that 
started this war. He cannot stop it. Why? Be- 
cause he is confronted by the millions of dead 
bodies on the battlefields of France whose spir- 
its demand they shall not die in vain. He is 
confronted by the spirit of Jeanne d'Arc, — by 
the awakening spirit of 76. 

These spirits are hovering around, stimulat- 
ing, inspiring the living to yet nobler deeds of 
heroism. 

Indomitable, incorruptible, they flock to the 
living who fight to the death, and every death 
brings forth another living soldier. 

America, sunk in materialism, now hearkens 
to the call of her forefathers. 

The spirit of Washington, Hamilton, Greene, 



LIFE IN DEATH 161 

Lafayette, Rochambeau, Lincoln, Sherman and 
Grant is calling us to the post of duty. 

The stern hand of fate has elevated us to a 
level from which we can see the great ideals we 
have forgotten — Honor, Patriotism, Equality. 

Those are the level foundation on which 
democracy rests, — not on wealth and inequal- 
ity. 

We must stamp out materialism and save the 
soul of America. 

While we are making the world safe for de- 
mocracy, let us make democracy safe for the 
world. 

While the soldier kills the German junker 
with the bullet the civilian must kill off the po- 
litical and profiteering junker with the ballot. 

Instead of Safety First, we must place Amer- 
ica First. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE 170TH FRENCH REGIMENT 

When we Americans went into the 170th, 
Seeger, Morlae, Narutz and others stayed with 
the 2nd Legion, which two weeks later was 
merged with the 1st Legion. Narutz remarked, 
in his philosophic manner, "The 170th is a reg- 
iment volante, always used in quick, double ac- 
tion work. Their specialty is bayonet attack. 
I am too old to go steeple chasing over barbed 
wire, in a ripped up country, with not one hun- 
dred yards of solid ground, then twenty yards 
of nothing, a 70 pound sack on my back, a two 
dollar thirst in my stomach and Boche machine 
guns in front. Believe me, the Legion is quite 
swift enough. I know what this is and will 
stick to what I have and am used to — what I 
have not had, I might not like." Seeger, as 
usual, silent, mystic, indomitable, appeared not 
to listen. His thoughts were in the clouds. 
He had made up his mind to stay. That set- 
tled it — no explanation necessary. 

Of the Americans who changed, but three, 
162 



170TH FRENCH REGIMENT 163 

Sergeant Capdeville, Sergeant Jacobs and Lieu- 
tenant Mulhauser remain. The Colonel, of that 
date, is now General Polalacelli. 

The 170th is a notable regiment. Time and 
again have its members been complimented by 
General Joflre. They are his children, his pride. 
Never were they called upon when they failed 
to make good. They have rushed into almost 
certain extermination and came out alive. 
Anointed with success, they fear nothing. They 
have charged into a cataclysm of destruction, 
which swallowed up whole companies, and re- 
turned with a battalion of German prisoners. 

Against all opposition, they prevail. Spite of 
death, they live, always triumphant, never de- 
feated. Theirs is an invincibility — a contempt 
of peril, which only men who have continually 
risked and won can have. In the confusion and 
complications of battle, they are masters in ob- 
struction and counter-attack. They have been 
torn, shocked and churned about — but they 
have arrived. Faces burning in zeal, exalted 
for the cause they serve, stimulated by the com- 
panionship of kindred spirits, they heedlessly 
dash to victory, or, the sunset — for the secret 
of victory rests in the hearts of the combatants. 

We turned directly about and went with this 



1 64 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

new regiment, back to the front line. We re- 
lieved our own old regiment, the Foreign Le- 
gion. Eight men, all Americans, were together 
in one squad. Inside of a week, only three were 
left. That is, there were but three, when I was 
sent away for repairs. 

We were in a captured German headquarters 
with equipment, ammunition, war debris, dead 
men and killed horses, strewed about. Along 
the edge of a hill was a German graveyard. 
About two hundred German soldiers, killed in a 
previous engagement, were buried there. Ger- 
man batteries, on the opposite hill top, kept 
bombarding their lost position, hoping to drive 
the French captors out. They shot up those 
dead Germans — the atmosphere grew pungent 
— the stench penetrated every corner. It set- 
tled heavy on the lungs. It was impossible to 
get away from it. It was in late October, 1915. 
The only time food or water could be sent up 
was during the night. Coffee was chilled by 
morning. During the day, as usual, we slept 
in the bottom of the trenches with shoes and 
cartridge belts on. At night the regular pro- 
gram was, — patrol, guard, digging trenches, 
placing barbed wire, bringing up ammunition 
and supplies, with always that dreadful smell. 



170TH FRENCH REGIMENT 165 

One morning, October 19, 1915, looking over 
at the Boche, I saw a shrapnel burst overhead. 
A second after a bullet embedded itself in my 
forehead. Some time later, feeling foolish for 
having been caught as shortstop for a German 
hit, I heard Bob Scanlon say, "You lucky fool. 
You lay rolled up warm in those Boche blankets 
all morning, while I was up, trying to find a 
place to heat the coffee. Now, you will go 
south, where it is warm, and I shall have to stay 
here and freeze." 



CHAPTER XIII 

163RD AND 92ND REGIMENTS 

Returning to the front I was sent as a rein- 
forcement to the 163rd who had just come from 
Verdun, where they had one battalion captured 
by the enemy. 

After a few days rest while they were getting 
reinforcements and new clothing and equip- 
ment we were sent up to the front where with 
the exception of ten days when we went to Lav- 
eline to be refitted again (but two men left in 
my squad). My company, the 7th, were in the 
first and second line trenches for seven contin- 
uous months. 

In the 163rd I saw a French regiment at its 
best. The Legion is composed of men from all 
countries. The 170th are from many French 
regiments and sections. The 163rd all came 
from southern France. They saw alike, under- 
stood one another and worked together. Kind 
and considerate, they were a band of ideal 
brothers. They took pleasure in having an 
American feel at home. They made sure that 

1 66 



163RD AND 92ND REGIMENTS 167 

he got his share of clothing - , rations and duty. 
He, noticing those little courtesies, in his ap- 
preciation, became a better soldier. 

What ! liked about this regiment was the 
supreme contempt the officers had for the 
Bodies — and could not but admire how easy 
they slipped things over on Fritz. 

Owing to the even character of the men, it 
was not necessary to have as strict discipline 
as in the Legion. Here the soldiers were more 
content — more companionable — were all veter- 
ans — many wounded bad enough so they could 
not have remained in a regiment of attack, — 
yet steady and dependable, and almost invalu- 
able, where the enemy's trenches were about 
thirty yards away, — and the two forces were in 
constant touch with each other. 

In the winter of 1916-17 weakened by rheu- 
matism, after fighting in three active first line 
regiments, I was finally sent to the 92nd Terri- 
torials, a working regiment, then in a near-by 
sector. 

These grand-dads, from forty to fifty-five 
years of age, the debris of "Papa" Joffre's old 
army, were all physically unfit — yet, not old 
enough to die. The object in holding them 
together was to have a reserve — in order to 



168 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

use what few ounces of strength they still 
had. 

Officers and doctors were considerate and 
very kind. But, even that could not keep a 
number of the men from caving in as Nature's 
limit was reached. 

One night at Bussang, after unloading coal in 
a snowstorm, my wet cotton gloves were as 
stiff with frost as were my knees with rheuma- 
tism. Quite fed up, I went to the- doctor, de- 
termined to thrash the matter out with him. 
"Yes," he responded, "I know you are not in 
condition, but, we are hard pressed now. We 
must use every ounce of energy we have." I 
quit knocking, stuck it out a few days longer, 
then went to pieces. 

Such is soldier life. He starts out strong and 
full of pep, fit to serve in the Foreign Legion, 
the best in France. Then in the 170th, graded 
the fourth. Then to the 163rd, a good trench 
regiment. Then to the 92nd Territorials, a 
working regiment. Then to hospital — trans- 
ferred back to the Legion — to be invalided 
home. 



CHAPTER XIV 

HOSPITAL LIFE 

In 1915 there were 6,400 hospitals in France 
and 18,000 doctors. During large offensives the 
wounded arrived in Paris at the rate of thirty 
trainloads per day. In Lyons at one time there 
were 15,000 wounded men. At Verdun 28,000 
wounded men were treated in one hospital dur- 
ing a 25 day period. In the spring of 1918, 40 
per cent of the entire French Army had been 
killed, captured or hopelessly mutilated. Of 
the 60 per cent remaining at that time there 
were 1,500,000 wounded and crippled men in 
the hospitals of France. With the exception, 
as far as known, of the American Hospital at 
Nice and the Scottish Woman's Hospital at 
Royemont, both of which maintain themselves, 
the pay for care and attendance of each patient 
which comes from the French Government is 
limited to one franc, 25 centimes per day (22^ 
cents). The balance is made up by the Red 
Cross, individuals and communities, according 

169 



170 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 



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HOSPITAL LIFE 



171 



to the largeness, or smallness, of the views and 
pocketbooks of those who assist. 

Hospitals are of two 
classes. They are in or 
out of the army zone. 
The Army Zone is a piece 
of land under strict mili- 
tary law, extending, pos- 
sibly, twenty miles back 
from the trenches. 

Ordinarily, weekly Red 
Cross trains carry the 
evacuated wounded, or 
disabled, soldiers from the 
Army Zone to the interior. 
During a general engage- 
ment trains wait, are filled 
with wounded from am- 
bulances, and sent away 
immediately as soon as 
filled. 

The hospital in the 
Army Zone, necessary for 
military reasons, is not 
looked upon with favor by 
the common soldier. It is 
too military. He has his 




SERBIAN MEDAL 

A limited number of 
these decorations were 
presented by S. A. R., the 
Prince Regent of Serbia, to 
President Poincare of the 
French Republic, for dis- 
tribution to officers and men 
for distinguished and bril- 
liant conduct under fire. 
Two were alletted the 
163rd Regiment of the Line 
— one for an officer, the 
other to a private. 



172 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

fill of red tape and regulations. He wants to 
forget there ever was a war, or that he ever was 
a soldier. He regards discipline as he does lice, 
and medicine and bad neighbors. It may be 
necessary to put up with them but he does not 
wish to do so any longer than necessary. 

If he must have a nurse, he does not want a 
limping, growling, medically unfit man. He 
prefers placing his suffering-racked body, in- 
jured by the hand of hate, where it can be 
nursed back to health with kindly ministering 
love. 

The sick soldier does not want to be pestered 
or bothered. He prefers to be left alone. He 
does not wish a nosing uplifter to come and tell 
him what he shall do, and what he shall not do. 
He had enough orders in the army. Because 
he wears a uniform, he is none the less a man. 
He may not be rich. But riches are no passport 
to heaven. He has only contempt for lively 
humbugs, who ape superiority, and try to push 
something down his throat which he does not 
want. 

In the Army Zone hospital, supposed to be 
sick, he is not allowed outside except under cer- 
tain conditions, and then in charge of a nurse. 
When convalescent, he is quarantined in the 



HOSPITAL LIFE 173 



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174 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Eclopes. Here, rather than moon his time away, 
and to keep from going stark crazy, he asks to 
be sent back to the front. 

In the hospitals of the interior, he gets much 
more liberal treatment. If able, he may wander 
about, without a chaperon, in the afternoons. 
He will buy a red herring and walk up the mid- 
dle of the street eating it. Four men go into a 
shop, buy five cents worth of cheese, and each 
pays for his own wine. 

Store windows have an irresistible attraction 
for him. 

Post cards hold his gaze for hours. 
A whistling small boy brings him to a full 
stop. He has not heard such a happy sound 
for a long time. He blesses the little fellow for 
showing so much cheer in the midst of suffer- 
ing. 

After several days, he notices people stare at 
him a good deal. Yes, he limps too much. 
Every step brings pain. He senses their kindly 
sympathy but, somehow or other, resents it. So, 
he goes out into the country, where, while he 
rests in the lap of Nature, the warm sun helps 
the doctors coax the poison from the wound, 
rheumatism from the joints, and shock from 
the system. 



HOSPITAL LIFE 175 

Away from the front, away from the busy 
haunts of men, all through France, in chateaux, 
in old convents and high schools, in sisters' hos- 
pitals, conducted by the Union of Femmes de 
France, the Society of Dames Francaises, and 
the Society Secours aux Malades and Blesses 
Militaires, under the kindly treatment of those 
unswerving, unflinching nurses, he recovers his 
strength, then goes to the front for Freedom or 
Glory Immortal. 

I shall not forget the many little courtesies 
received in the French hospitals at Saumur, 
Montreuil-Ballay, Remiremont, Pont de Veyle 
and Bourg. Suffering unites the sympathetic. 
Pain is the barometer that tests the human 
fiber. The soldier, who has been through the 
fire with his fellows, who has been wounded, as 
they were, who suffered, as they did, has an es- 
tablished comradeship that endures. He was 
interested in them and they in him. When he 
is low and the day ahead looks dark and dreary, 
he can feel their sympathy. Probably no word 
is spoken, but he knows the whole ward is pull- 
ing for him. He does not want to disappoint 
his friends. He rises to the occasion. That 
sympathy means the difference between life 
and death. 



176 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

In the early days of the war, flowers, cigar- 
ettes, reading matter and luxuries, were show- 
ered upon wounded soldiers. Gradually, as 
private and public interests demanded atten- 
tion, visitors were compelled to work for them- 
selves, or for the State. 

The faithful, never-tiring nurses patiently 
remain at their posts, color washed from their 
cheeks, hands worn, seamed by labor, dark eyes, 
flashing like stars of a wintry night, unceas- 
ingly, they work to bring back to health those 
who almost died for them. In their sweet, white 
uniforms, suppressing their own troubles with 
a jolly smile, they greet and welcome the mud- 
stained, lousy, dirty poilu and give him an affec- 
tionate word — far more efficient, a much better 
tonic, than medicine. 



CHAPTER? XV 

AN INCIDENT 

Early spring, 1916, at Boulogne, dressed as a 
French poilu, I stepped off the channel boat 
from Folkstone, and, hurrying to the railroad 
station, learned that the express would not 
leave for Paris till 8 o'clock — a wait of five 
hours. 

The day was cold. Snow was blowing around 
the street corner. The raw sea breeze cut to the 
marrow. Buttoning a thin overcoat, still crum- 
pled from going through the crumming ma- 
chine, sure sign of hospital treatment, I walked 
about aimlessly. "Fish and chips." Yes, that 
was what I wanted. I wasn't hungry, but it 
must be warm inside. It was also the last chance 
for some time to indulge in finny luxuries. Lots 
of water in those long, narrow trenches, skirt- 
ing "No-Man's-Land," but no fish. Grinning, 
I recalled one cold, heart-breaking morning, 
when an unseen German yelled across: 

"Hello, Francais, have you the brandy?" 

"No, have you?" 

177 



178 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

"No, we have not ; but we have the water !" 

We knew that — for we had just drained our 
trench into theirs. 

I took my time and when not picking fish 
bones gazed, reflectively, at the miserable 
weather outside. I chatted in English with Brit- 
ish Tommies and exchanged a few remarks in 
French with the little waitress. At the cash- 
ier's counter, a stranger, dressed as an English 
private soldier, rasped out, in an aggressive, au- 
thoritative voice. 

"Here! You speak very good English." 

Iin spite of not liking his tone, I responded, 
"Oh, I don't know." 

"You don't know? Well, I know. You speak 
as good English as I do." 

"I don't know that you have any monopoly 
on the English language." 

"You don't know, eh, you don't know? I 
would like to know what you do know." 

"Well, I know something you don't."' 

"What's that?" 

"I know enough to mind my own business." 

After a few seconds dead silence, the Eng- 
lishman said, "Who are you?" 

"That's my business." 

"It's my business to find out." 



AN INCIDENT 179 

"Well, find out." 

"Let. me see your papers." 

"I will not." 

"If you don't let me see your papers, I ; will 
take you up to the Base Court." 

"You won't take me any place — understand 
that?" 

I paid the frightened little waitress. The 
English Tommies were taking eyefulls instead 
of mouthsfull. I was angered. I was minding 
•my own business. Why could not the English- 
man mind his. The more I thought of it, the 
warmer I got. Turning to him I said, "You not 
only don't mind your own business, but you 
don't know where you are. You are in France, 
where soldiers are treated as men." 

Half an hour later, the Englishman, accom- 
panied by a Frenchman in uniform, stopped me 
in the street. The Frenchman spoke, — 

"Good day, mister." 

"Good day!" 

"Will you show me your papers, if you 
please?" 

"Who are you — are you a policeman?" . 

"No." 

"What right have you to see my papers?" 

"I belong to the Bureau." 



180 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

"The Bureau of shirkers?" 

"No, the Bureau of the Place." 

"Well, I will show them at the proper time 
and place." 

A small crowd had collected. A poilu, cov- 
ered with trench mud, asked, "What is the mat- 
ter?" 

"Oh, this fellow wants to see my papers." 

"Well, haven't you got them?" 

"Yes." 

"Let me see them." 

"At the first glance he saw the Foreign Le- 
gion stamp. 

"Ha, ha, la Legion ! I ; know the Legion, come 
along and we will have a litre of wine." 

So, we two walked away and left the crowd 
disputing among themselves. I remarked to 
the Englishman, who had stood silently watch- 
ing, "I told you before, you were too ignorant 
to mind your own business. Now, you see you 
are." 

The wine disposed of, we parted. Looking 
back, I saw the Englishman following a hun- 
dred yards behind. He crossed the street and 
stood on the opposite corner. He stopped three 
English officers and told his little tale of woe. 
They crossed, in perfect time, spurs jingling, 



AN INCIDENT 181 

and bore down, three abreast, upon me, the 
pauvre poilu, who did not salute. 

''You have come from England, where you 
have been spending your convalescence?" 

"Yes." 

"Have you your convalescence papers with 
you?" 

"Of course." 

"You must excuse me; but, would you mind 
showing them?" 

"Certainly, with pleasure." 

After scanning them, one said to the other, 
"They look all right." No answer. "They look 
all right, don't they, Phil?" No answer. The 
junior officer, a Lieutenant, conducted the 
examination. Of the other two older men, 
one turned his head away, looking down the 
street, the other gazed at the Lieutenant 
with a peculiar, almost disgusted expres- 
s : on. 

I then asked, "By the way, is it the business 
of the English in France to demand the creden- 
tials of French soldiers? What right has that 
man to interfere with me?" 

"You must show your papers to the military 
authorities." 

"Is that man a 'military authority'?" 



182 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

The Lieutenant looked round and not seeing 
the disturber, turned to Phil, "Where is he?" 

"Oh, I don't know. He said something about 
going to get the military police. Let's go." The 
Lieutenant, turning to me, said, "It is all right. 
You may go and tell that man we said you were 
all right." 

I did not move, but stood at attention and 
saluted while the officers walked away. 

I didn't know who "that man" was, nor yet 
the name of "we," but I : didn't care. Half an 
hour later "that man" arrived with English 
soldiers, or military police, headed by a newly 
made Corporal and a Scotch veteran who ra- 
diated intelligence with dignity and self-re- 
spect. 

After walking, captive, a few minutes, I 
asked, "Where are we going?" 

"To the Base Court." 

I thought I was a sucker, playing the Butt- 
in-ski's game. Throwing my back against the 
wall, I answered, — "If you want to take me to 
the Base Court, you will have to carry me." 

A long silence followed, and a crowd col- 
lected. The English corporal started to blus- 
ter. I demanded, — "What business have you 
to interfere with me?" 



AN INCIDENT 183 

"We have orders to make you show your 
papers." 

"Who gave you those orders?" 

The Corporal did not answer. The Scotch- 
man turned to him and said, — "Who is that 
damned fool that.is always getting us into trou- 
ble?" 

The Corporal responded, — "I don't know, — 
he gave me a card. Here it is." 

I looked over the Corporal's shoulder and 
read, Lieutenant P n. 

The Scotchman asked, — "Don't you have to 
show your papers?" 

"Yes, to those who have the right to see 
them." 

"Who are they?" 

"The gendarmes, the commissaire, and the 
proper officials." 

Then, that smooth Scotchman slipped one 
over on me, — "Look here, soldier, don't be fool- 
ish. Think of yourself and look at us — we 
would look like hell getting into a row with a 
French soldier, with this crowd about, wouldn't 
we? If you don't want to go to the English 
court, let's go to the French commissaire and 
get the damned thing over with." 

I replied, "You are engaged in a lovely busi- 



184 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

ness, aren't you? You permit German officers, 
who are fighting in the German army against 
Great Britain, to retain their titles in the Eng- 
lish House of Lords; and you come over to 
France and arrest your ally, the French com- 
mon soldier." 

"We had to mind orders, ma lad, 'E don't 
doubt ye're a' richt." 

The Corporal put in, "I'm not so sure about 
that." 

I replied, "I bet you're making a trip fof 
nothing." 

"What will you bet?" 
"Oh, I don't know — a glass of beer." 
"Good, that's a go," said the Corporal. "Ah'll 
help ye drink it," said the Scot. 

The Commissaire examined my papers 
closely. Turning to the Corporal, he asked, 
"What have you brought this man here for?" 

The Corporal replied, "He speaks very good 
English and not very good French." 

The Commissaire observed, "I don't know 
about his English, but he speaks better French 
than you do." 

"We don't know who he is." 
The Commissaire responded, "This man is a 
soldier of France, an American citizen, a vol- 



AN INCIDENT 185 

unteer in the Foreign Legion. His papers show 
that, and his identification badge confirms it. 
The papers also state he was wounded in the 
forehead. Look at that scar ! The papers show 
he is returning to his regiment. Here is his rail- 
road ticket. What do you want with him? 
What charge do you enter against him?" 

The Corporal looked uncomfortable. The 
Scotchman walked away. The Commissaire 
came around the table and shook hands with 
me. In horror, the Corporal whispered, point- 
ing to the Commissaire, "He is a Colonel !" and 
started to walk away. I called out, "Here, 
where are you going — aren't you going to buy 
that beer?" 

After buying, the Corporal hurried off. I 
followed more slowly, watched half a dozen 
English soldiers in animated conversation with 
the Corporal, the Scotchman and the Lieuten- 
ant Buttinski. 

I studied the pantomine for some time, then 
wandered about, till my train was ready to start 
for Paris. Seeing Lieutenant P n look- 
ing through the iron railing, I waved him fare- 
well ; but he did not respond. A Frenchman 
would have either waved his hand or shook his 
fist! 



CHAPTER XVI 

NATURE'S FIRST LAW 

The American soldier in France finds new 
scenes, new conditions, new customs. Uncon- 
sciously he compares life back home with his 
new experiences, often to the latter's disadvan- 
tage. He sees things he does not like, that he 
would change, that he could improve. But, 
what does appeal to him as perfect is the large 
number of small farms (53 per cent of French- 
men are engaged in agriculture) with the little 
chateaux, built upon miniature estates, exqui- 
sitely tended, artistically designed, that give 
joy to the eye and food for the stomach. These 
beautiful homes encourage thrift, they show 
him, often, the better way. 

Pride of possession makes the Frenchman 
patriotic, national. When the enemy struck 
France, they struck him. He rushed to the 
frontier to meet invaders who sought to subdue 
him and destroy his happy home. From a 
cheerful, mirth-loving man, he has become se- 
rious and morose. Not now does he sing or 

1 86 



NATURE'S FIRST LAW 187 

laugh any more. He has been treated unjustly. 
An overwhelming power tried to force on him 
something he will not have. He does not blus- 
ter — he waits. He does not scold — he works. 
When the time comes — he acts. 

To the non-land-owning German industrial 
slaves, driven by the strong hand of Autocracy, 
he says, — "You shall not enslave us. If you 
have not the brains to free yourselves, we shall 
free you, whether you wish it or not." To the 
robbers' cry for peace (so they can legalize 
their stolen loot) the French soldier replies, — 
"Yes, when justice has been done, justice to the 
wronged, the oppressed, the raped. Justice is 
obtained by regular procedure in a criminal 
court, not by negotiation between equals. Ar- 
bitration is not possible between a crazy man 
and the woman he has assaulted. The mad man 
must be caught and properly judged. If in- 
sane, he should be confined, if not, he must 
be punished." 

As civilians become city broke, soldiers be- 
come army broke. Instead of walking in mobs, 
they move in rows. Near the front, from march- 
ing in companies, they advance in sections. 
These disintegrate, when an apparently stray 
shell comes along. Units become individuals 



1 88 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

of initiative and intelligence, adaptable to sud- 
den, strange environment. Necessity super- 
sedes the regular book of rules. Books are 
printed, orders given, to regulate ordinary con- 
ditions. 

The soldier's conditions under fire are neither 
ordinary nor regular. Instinct tells him when 
to brace, when to duck. He knows an order 
to stand up or lie down won't stop that shell, 
put his cocoanut back, or reassemble his family 
tree. So, he does what he thinks best. He may 
obey or disobey the order, and save or lose his 
life. The man who gave the order may die be- 
cause he did, or did not, obey. 

A good soldier can generally kick off unnec- 
essaries as fast as a poor officer can load them 
on. He runs light before the wind. Instead of 
wearing himself out as a hewer of wood and a 
hauler of water, he saves his strength for the 
enemy. 

A luminous watch on the wrist, a compass in 
the pocket, a 2x6 box, with toilet necessaries, 
are his private stock in trade. The other sixty 
pounds are regular army. He always hangs 
onto his gun, cartridges, bombs, little shovel, 
and tin hat. He doesn't want tight-fitting 
shoes, but prefers them a size or two large. He 



NATURE'S FIRST LAW 189 

doesn't buckle his belt regulation style. In- 
stead of buckling his cartridge belt in front, he 
fastens it on the side, so he can slide the cart- 
ridge boxes around, where they won't gouge 
into his body when he sleeps. He covers his 
rifle with oil. He wipes out his mess tin with 
dry bread crumbs. He does not gormandize be- 
fore a long march, or fill up on cold water. He 
keeps his feet in good condition. He covers up 
his head when asleep, so the rats won't disturb 
him. He keeps his rifle within reach and is 
always ready to move at a moment's notice. 

One day, he may have eaten up the regula- 
tion hand-book of rules, for breakfast, dined 
comfortably on regimental orders, and, going 
to sleep, with taps blowing in his dome, dreamed 
sets of fours and double time. Next day, he 
wakes up, to find by actual experience that, 
while plans are made and ordered, everything 
is actually gained by opportunity, individual- 
ity, initiative. 

He may pass years in peaceful climes, going, 
like a side-walk comedian, through the empty 
mummeries of a Broadway spectacular produc- 
tion. Put under shot and shell, he just knows 
he is a soldier, who must keep his feet warm 
and his head cool. 



190 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

The Poilu is first, first on outpost, first at the 
enemy, first in his home, first in the affection 
of his country. From the ranks of the poilu the 
officers are drawn. He is the Foundation. He 
honors France, France honors him. 

When, in 1914, he, with the original Tommy 
Atkins, turned at the Marne, attacked fifty-two 
army corps of well-equipped, well-drilled, rap- 
idly advancing, victorious Huns, outnumbering 
him 8 to 5, and drove them back with his bay- 
onet (for some regiments had no cartridges), 
he saved not only France, but England, Amer- 
ica and civilization. 

During the terrible year of 1915, it was the 
bare breast and naked bayonet of the poilu and 
the little French 75 that halted superior forces 
of the enemy, flanked and aided by longer- 
ranged, heavy artillery, Zeppelins, liquid flame 
and aeroplanes. 

Remember, German casualties, the first year 
of the war, were 3,500,000 men. 

For eight continuous months, he was ada- 
mant, behind Verdun. One million men (600,- 
000 Germans and 400,000 French) were inca- 
pacitated within the three square mile tract 
that guards the entrance to that historic 
town, where, a century before, Napoleon 



NATURE'S FIRST LAW 191 

kept his English prisoners. Here, the poilu 
sent the German lambs to glory as fast as 
their Crown Prince could lead them to the 
slaughter. 

With face of leather, his forehead a mass of 
wrinkles, which hurt neither the face nor his 
feelings — a man as careless of dress as the 
French poilu, naturally, doesn't care whether 
his clothes fit him or not, — he goes his fine, 
proud way. His once happy countenance, now 
saddened by suffering, will yet light up in ap- 
preciation. A little kindness makes him elo- 
quent. Strong in the righteousness of his 
cause, he does not bow his head in sorrow, or 
bend in weakness. He stands upright, four- 
square to the world. He has lived down dis- 
comfort. He cares nothing for exposure or 
starvation. He has seen what the brutes have 
done in the reconquered villages he passed 
through. He is determined they shall not do it 
in his home, or, if his home is in the invaded 
territory, he declares they shall pay for the 
damage. Animated by the spirit of justice, en- 
nobled by the example of St. Genevieve, of 
Jeanne d'Arc, of Napoleon, inspired by the 
courage and devotion of the wonderful women, 
of France, supported by a united country, he 



1 92 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

knows he is fighting for self-preservation and a 
world's freedom. 

He closed, locked, barred the door at the 
Marne. Now he guards the gate. He makes 
no complaint and asks no favors. With almost 
certainty of death in front, trouble in his heart, 
body racked by fatigue, with dark forebodings 
of the future, bled white by repeated onslaughts, 
he remains at his post and does his duty, with- 
out a murmur. 

French officers are real, improved property, 
not vacant lots. They are leaders, not follow- 
ers. Ordinary people see what goes on before 
their eyes. The French officer is not an ordi- 
nary person. Anything that is happening, or 
has happened, his quick mind connects with 
something else a mile away — not yet arrived. 
When it comes along, it has already been met; 
and he is waiting for the next move. His spe- 
cial study is the German Military Manual, his 
specialties concentration and initiative. 

He will grasp another man's opportunity/ tie 
a double knot in it, and have it safely stowed 
away, before the bungler misses it. He dis- 
counts the future, beats the other man to it and 
arrives with both feet when not expected — just 
before the other is quite ready. Endowed with 



NATURE'S FIRST LAW 193 

foresight, farsight, secondsight and hindsight, 
he sees all about and far away in front. Every 
isolated movement is noticed. He connects it 
up with some future possible development, 
eventuality or danger. 

Men of other nations may have delusions 
about German organization and system, but 
the French officer has none. He has beaten 
Fritz, time after time. He knows he can do it 
again; and, if there is any one thing he espe- 
cially delights in, it is to throw a wrench into 
that ponderous, martial machinery and break 
Kultur's plans. Germans are lost with no rule 
to follow, and their head-piece won't work. 
They are at the mercy of the man who makes 
precedents, but who does not bother to follow 
them. 

Many a soldier has an aversion to saluting 
officers — it looks like servility. We do it with 
pleasure in France, as a token of respect. The 
French officers at the front do not insist upon 
it, and often shake hands after the return salute. 
Mon Capitaine is the father of his company, the 
soldiers are mes enfants (my children). They 
go to the captain when they have a grievance, 
not as a favor, but because it is their right ; and 
he grants their request — or gives them four 



194 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

days in prison, as the case demands, with a 
smile. Soldiers accept his decision without 
question. The French officer does not mistake 
snobbishness for gentility or braggadocio for 
bravery. In the attack, he takes the lead. In 
the trench warfare he shares dangers and dis- 
comforts with his men. 

It is a great honor to be an active French of- 
ficer. He is there because his achievements 
forced him upward. He has climbed over ob- 
stacles, and been promoted on account of merit, 
not through influence. He holds the front, 
while the inefficient, the aged, or crippled, are 
relegated to the rear. 

The soldier pays with his hide for the civil- 
ian's comforts. The civilian, in turn, apes the 
soldier, presents a military bearing, in khaki 
coat, with swagger stick, a camera, a haversack 
and Joiners' decorations. While the citizen 
works (or shirks) to sustain the soldier, he is 
either using his strength on the front, or build- 
ing it up in the hospital. 

An enthusiastic, spirited volunter, gradually 
becomes a silent, sober, calculating veteran. His 
days have been troubled. His nights knew no 
peace. Recognizing discipline as the first prin- 
ciple of organization, that it is necessary to 



NATURE'S FIRST LAW 195 

have individual obedience, for a group to act 
harmoniously, he submits. On the front, he 
finds — himself. 

Half a dozen men are taking comfort in the 
shelter of a dugout. The next instant, five are 
one hundred feet in air, snuffed out, torn into 
atoms. But one is left, staring, mouth open. 
The others, swift arrivals at Kingdom Come, 
went so quickly into the great Beyond, they 
never knew or felt the shock. 

So with the rum ration low and the water 
high, the morning bright in sunlight, surround- 
ings dark with death, one's thoughts spring 
from the mind. Words fill the mouth. One 
grasps his pencil to catch burning impressions 
that flood his brain. He might as well try to 
tell his grandmother how to raise babies as to 
think straight! He reaches out and connects 
up, apparently isolated, strings of thought. He 
links a chain of circumstance bearing on de- 
struction's delirious delusions that now rocks 
the foundations of the world, which reacts on 
and affects every civilization, person, and indi- 
vidual on earth. 

He looks at things from an angle different 
from that of the civilian. He has a new con- 
ception of life. He is not the same person he 



196 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

was before the war. No longer does he smell 
the flowers, eat the fruit, or dwell in the home 
of civilization. He has lived, like a beast, in a 
hole in the ground, and slept in a seeping dug- 
out with the rats and the lice. He has seen his 
companion go over the top, killed off, like 
germs, changed from a human comrade into a 
clod. He has lived long between two earthen 
walls, the blue sky above, a comrade on each 
side, with Fritz across the way. 

It was a narrow prospect. His point of view 
was limited; but he knew, that while appar- 
ently alone, he and his comrades were links in 
that strong, continuous chain of men who keep 
back the enemies of Freedom. Behind that 
chain are others, bracing, reinforcing, — artil- 
lery, infantry, aviators, reserves, money, pro- 
visions and ammunition, flocking to his aid 
from America, from Great Britain, from the ut- 
termost parts. 

Those larger operations in the rear affect him 
but indirectly. The details in front are of vital 
interest. They mean life or death. Every al- 
teration in the landscape demands closest in- 
vestigation. Boys do not play, nor old women 
gabble, in No-Man's-Land. Nothing is done 
without a reason, and, for every change, 



NATURE'S FIRST LAW 197 

there is a cause. An unusual piece of cloth 
or paper is scrutinized by a hundred men, 
while a suspicious movement empties their 
guns. 

The soldier acquires the habit of noticing lit- 
tle things. He sees a small, starved flower, 
struggling for sunshine and strength, alongside 
the trench. He wonders why it chose such an 
inhospitable home. Next day, there is no 
flower, no trench — just an immense, gaping 
hole in the torn ground. 

He watches the rats. Why are they so im- 
pudent and important? He grows so accus- 
tomed to them, he does not even squirm, when 
they run across him in the darkness at night. 
He knows they have enough camp offal and 
dead men's bodies — they do not eat the living. 
He watches the cat with interest. She is an 
old timer and has seen regiments come and go. 
Her owners are in exile — they have no home— 
the Germans took it. So, pussy, a lady Of sense 
and good taste, dwells with the French soldiers. 
He looks at her long, lanky frame and wishes 
for some milk to give her, to counteract the poi- 
son of the rat food. A shell comes along. Pussy 
runs into the dugout, but comes out again to 
be petted. Another shell, again she scurries 



198 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

away. Kitty does not like shells any more than 
do humans. 

War is the great leveler. Deplored as piti- 
less destroyer, it more than equalizes, a creator 
of good. It annihilates property, kings and 
thrones; but it produces men. It taps hitherto 
unseen springs of sympathy and mutual help- 
fulness, where thrived formerly but the barren 
waste of self-sufficiency. It unmasks the hum- 
bug and reveals the humanitarian. It teaches 
individual self-lessness. The cruelties of the 
oppressor are overcome by love for the op- 
pressed. The dominance of wickedness is 
brought low by sweet charity for its victims. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE INVADED COUNTRY 

I have seen the German under many condi- 
tions. In the early days of the war, I used to 
listen to his songs — sung very well. But, he 
does not sing now. I have watched the smoke 
rise, in the early morning, as he cooked his 
breakfast. I have dodged his flares, his gren- 
ades, and his sentinels, at night. I have heard 
his shovels ring as he dug himself down, and 
have listened to his talk to his neighbor. I have 
seen him come up on all fours, from his dugout, 
crying "Kamarad"; and I cannot say, that, as 
a common soldier, he is a bad fellow. 

The brutality seems to start with the sous- 
officer. It gets more refined and cruel as rank 
goes up. I have noticed the dazed, hopeless ex- 
pression of pregnant women at Sillery-Sur- 
Marne. They stayed under fire of the guns, 
rather than carry their grief into safety. They 
emerged from their Calvary, with faces as of 
the dead, impassive, masklike, hiding scars of 
agony. 

199 



200 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

I talked with a young woman shop-keeper at 
Verpeliers. The Germans had been in her house 
— slept on the floor, thick as sardines in a box. 
They ate up her stock and did not pay. Was 
she not afraid? She laughed a happy laugh. 
"What me, Monsieur, afraid? I am Francaise. 
What do I care for those swine? The sous-of- 
ficers tried to make me give in. They pointed 
guns at me, and tried to pull me along with 
them when the French returned. I screamed 
and fought. Four of my lodgers are where those 
crosses are at the bend of the road. The others 
are prisoners. I am paid, all right, and am sat- 
isfied." "Yes," she continued, "they charged 
our old men with being in telephonic communi- 
cation with the French Army. Twelve were ar- 
rested, marked with a blue cross on the right 
cheek, and have not been heard from since. 
Two, M. Poizeaux, aged 47, and M. Vassel, 78 
years old, were brought back and shot the same 
evening." 

At Rodern, in reconquered Alsace, where the 
natives spoke German, the streets were marked 
in German letters, German proclamations were 
on the walls, and German money was current, 
I sat with Tex Bondt, in a low Alsatian room, 



THE INVADED COUNTRY 201 

by candle light. The heavy family bed was let 
into a wall and screened off by a curtain, the 
floor was of stone, the furniture primitive. A 
short, squat woman was bewailing her misfor- 
tunes. This mother had six sons and three 
daughters. Three boys mobilized with the Ger- 
man Army. Two were killed. The other is on 
the Russian front. Of the three, who ran away, 
and joined the French army, one was killed and 
two wounded. Two of her girls, nurses in the 
German Army, were killed during a bombard- 
ment. As she listened, I watched emotion come 
and go in the eyes of the remaining daughter. 

In the hospital at Montreuil-Ballay, I met an 
old man, wounded in the arm. The wound would 
not knit. Unable to sleep, weeping relieved 
him. He said, "My wife and I were at home 
near Lille, in bed one night. The Germans 
broke in the door, came upstairs, jabbed me 
with a bayonet and made me get out. I kept 
going and joined the French Army." 

"And your wife, what of her?" 

"T don't know, I have neither seen nor heard 
from her from that day to this." 

Again, in the hospital at Pont de Veyle, a 
young man on a neighboring cot told me, "Yes, 



202 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

I am from the invaded country. My name is 
La Chaise. Before the war, my father was In- 
spector General of railroads for the Depart- 
ment of the North, with headquarters at Lille. 
When the Germans advanced he was taken 
prisoner. D ran away, joined the French Army, 
and my mother and sister were left at our home. 
A German Colonel billeted himself in the house. 
He liked my sister, — she was very beautiful. 
This is her photograph, and these are tresses 
of her hair when she was twelve and eighteen 
year of age. This is her last letter to me. One 
night the Colonel tried to violate my sister. She 
screamed, my mother ran in, shot him twice 
with a revolver and killed him. The sentry en- 
tered, took my mother and sister to prison ; and, 
next morning they were lined up against a wall 
and shot." 

One night at Madame's, — the bake-shop 
across the road from the hospital at La Croix 
aux Mines, with Leary, an Irishman, Simpson, 
a New Zealander, and an Englishman who was 
in charge of the Lloyds Ambulance service, we 
listened to Madame. 

"Yes, the Germans descended on us from the 
hilltops like a swarm of locusts, ate and drank 



THE INVADED COUNTRY 203 

up everything in sight, hunted us women 
out of our houses into the road and told us it 
was our last chance for liberty. We ran and 
the Germans followed. We did not know we 
were being used as a screen, that we were shel- 
tering the Boche behind. The French would 
not shoot at us but they got the Germans just 
the same, from the flank. I shall never forget 
our selfishness. All we thought about was get- 
ting to our French friends, and we were cover- 
ing the advance of our enemies ! If we had 
known, we'd have died first." 

The Englishman, who had been in the retreat 
from Mons, drawled out, — "Yes, you Ameri- 
cans think the Germans are not bad people. I 
used to think so, too, but when I listened to the 
Belgians telling how some little girls were 
treated, though I felt they were telling the 
truth, it was too horrible to believe. So three 
of us Red Cross men went out one night, — 
where they told us the girls were buried. We 
dug them up ; and, let me tell you, no person on 
earth will ever make me associate with a Ger- 
man again." 

At Nestle, they carried away 164 women. 
The official German explanation was that they 
should work in Germany, while the cynical of- 



204 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

ficers said they would use them as orderlies. On 
August 29, 1914, when the Germans entered the 
city, a mother of seven children was violated by 
three soldiers. Later, she was knocked down 
and again assaulted, by an officer. Five inhab- 
itants were lined up against a wall to be shot, 
when a French counter-attack liberated them. 

In the spring of 1917, at Vraignes, in the in- 
vaded district, the Germans told the people they 
were to be evacuated. After the inhabitants 
had gathered their personal belongings, they 
were driven into the courtyard, stripped and 
robbed of their possessions. Twenty-four 
young women were carried away from this town 
of 253 population. 

At Le Bouage, a suburb of Chauny, before 
the Germans retreated, the French refugees 
were lined up a distance of two kilometers on 
the Chauny-Noyon road and kept there, in a 
pouring rain, four hours. Even the invalids 
were carried out on stretchers. German officers 
passed along the line and picked out thirty-one 
young girls and women, one an invalid girl, 
thirteen years of age, and carried them away 
with the retreating army. Of the remainder 
within two weeks after fifty persons succumbed 
from the exposure. 



THE INVADED COUNTRY 205 

On February 18th, at Noyon, when the Ger- 
mans were compelled to retreat, in addition to 
burning, wrecking and looting, they carried 
away by force fifty young girls between four- 
teen and twenty-one years of age. They looted 
the American Relief store, dynamited the build- 
ing, then turned the canal water into the base- 
ment. 

From Roubaix, Turcoing and Lille 25,000 
civilians were deported. 

"These slave raids commenced, April 22, 
1916, at 3 o'clock in the morning. Troops, with 
fixed bayonets, barred the streets, machine guns 
commanded the roads, against unarmed people. 
Soldiers made their way into the houses, offi- 
cers pointed out the people who were to go. 
Half an hour later, everybody was driven, pell- 
mell, into an adjacent factory, from there to the 
station, whence they departed." Taken from 
the Yellow Book, published by the Minister of 
War, dated June 30, 1916. 

At Warsage, August 4, 1914, the day Bel- 
gium was violated, three civilians were shot, six 
hanged, nine murdered. 

At Luneville, eighteen civilians were killed, 
including one boy of twelve, shot, and an old 
woman of ninety-eight, bayoneted. 



206 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

At Liege, twenty-nine civilians were mur- 
dered, some shot and others bayoneted — yet 
others burned alive. 

At Seilles, fifty civilians were killed. 

At Audenne, August 20 and 21, 1914, 250 ci- 
vilians were killed, according to French rec- 
ords, while General Von Bulow, over his own 
signature, in a written order to the people of 
Liege, dated August 22, says that he com- 
manded the town to be reduced to ashes and 
ordered 110 persons shot. 

The process of terrorism is invariably the 
same: — First, the crushing blow of invasion, 
followed by pillage, rape and murder; then, 
when the victims are paralyzed, crushed in 
spirit, shocked to the heart's core, obnoxious 
reg-ulations are published and enforced to pre- 
vent their recuperating. 

At La Fontenelle, Ban de Sept, and many 
other villages along the front, manure had 
been thrown into the wells, the fruit trees were 
cut down, the copper was taken from coffins of 
the dead, the farm houses were demolished, and 
all property was taken away or destroyed. One 
would not pay $10 for the whole outfit of a peas- 
ant farmer's home: table, a half dozen chairs, a 
bedstead in the corner, a crucifix hanging on 



THE INVADED COUNTRY 207 

the wall, a marriage certificate and a picture 
of the virgin, yet all was gone. The ammunition 
trains that came up from Germany went back 
loaded with such poor people's belongings. 
Nothing left, an old woman's bonnet on a dung- 
heap, a baby's shoe in a corner, a broken pic- 
ture frame or two — that's all. 

Talk about forgiving the Germans! Rob- 
bing the poor, the destruction of property, pos- 
sibly may be forgiven. Property can be re- 
placed. But, the systematic, deliberate ruin of 
non-combatant, innocent women and children, 
is a crime against civilization that can never be 
forgiven or forgotten. For generations to 
come, the German will be treated as an outlaw. 
He will be shunned — worse than a beast. Un- 
clean, he will have to purge himself before he 
may be again accepted in the society of decent 
women and men. 

Think of those fine-grained, sensitive French 
girls, compelled to live with brutes — generally 
surly, often drunk, who have killed their hus- 
bands, their brothers, their fathers! They 
have broken all the rules of war. They have 
outraged every decency. They are so sunk in 
the abyss of shame that they know neither re- 
spect for the living nor reverence for the dead. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

LOVE AND WAR 

Love and war go together. War destroys 
the body but love lives on with the soul. Love 
and war have transformed the hitherto seem- 
ingly empty-pated, fashionable woman to an 
angel of mercy. Socialists have developed into 
patriots, artisans have become statesmen, good- 
for-nothings are now heroes, misers have 
grown to be philanthropists. 

Man, missing woman's ministrations at the 
front, turns instinctively to her when oppor- 
tunity offers. Hard, fierce, unyielding to his 
fellows, he relaxes in her sheltering affection. 
He is but a boy grown. He wants to be petted, 
coddled, civilized again. 

The woman realizes he has suffered for her. 
He knows what she has sacrificed for him. 
War has brought them together, brushed aside 
false pride and hypocrisy and revealed refresh- 
ing springs of patriotism and love out of which 
flows a union of hearts and hopes that only 

208 



LOVE AND WAR 209 

those who suffer, sacrifice and endure together 
can realize. 

The man is better for having been a soldier. 
He is self-reliant, stronger in mind and body. 
Through discipline he has become punctual 
and dependable. All snobbishness, fads and 
isms are now out of him. He is more tolerant 
and charitable. He recognizes the value of 
women's work in the home, in the hospital and 
in the munition factory. As a representa- 
tive of her country, whose uniform he wears, 
he carries himself more proudly, more up- 
rightly. 

What a soldier is to the army, a home is to 
the nation. The home is safe only so long as 
is the country. With foreign invasion, all 
values become nothing. The woman, the man, 
the home, the country are interwoven. Beyond 
lie the right to live their lives, personal liberty, 
representative government, the preservation, 
yes, even the propagation of the race. 

To check that on-coming German tide which 
threatened to wipe away everything he holds 
dear, the soldier has fitted himself into that 
surging, bending, human wall. Behind it, 
under the shadow of death, woman works and 
waits, in a quiet that knows not peace — often 



210 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

in vain — filled with care and dread, ever striv- 
ing to be calm, she hides her heart's pain. 

Ancestors died for the liberty his flag rep- 
resents. Posterity must enjoy the same free- 
dom. So, he bridges the gap, shoulders the 
load and becomes a better lover, husband, 
father. Having learned his obligation to the 
nation, he is a better citizen for all time. One 
man's daughter loves and marries another's 
son and they become one. War tears them 
apart. He goes to the trenches. She keeps 
the home fires burning. Love holds them to- 
gether while he fights to protect and preserve, 
she works to support and maintain. 

That man is not yet whose pen can do jus- 
tice to the incomparable woman of France. 
She is a wonderful combination of heart, head 
and health. The women of colder climes love 
with their minds. The French woman with her 
heart. She gives all, regardless of conse- 
quences. 

Cynical critics may have their cool sensibil- 
ities shocked at the sight of a well-turned 
ankle, crossing a muddy street. That is as near 
as they get to the sweet creature they out- 
wardly condemn, but secretly approve. She 
plays square and wants to love as well as be 



LOVE AND WAR 211 

loved. She gives love and is loved in return. 
While the woman who wants something, but 
gives nothing, instills her selfishness into 
others. 

The selfish person loves him or herself and 
gives no love to friend, family or country. The 
unselfish woman absorbs love, and, as a flower 
its perfume, scatters fragrance. She inspires 
the noblest sentiments of loyalty and patriot- 
ism. She places herself and her best beloved 
upon the altar of her country. It is always she 
who has given most, who is willing to give all. 

Mere man notices her dainty figure, her 
happy disposition, her cheery, outspoken 
manner, her charm and goodness of heart, the 
utter absence of vulgarity and ill-temper. Her 
tears are shed in solitude. Laughter is for her 
friends. He admires her at a distance, because 
she is sheltered in the home until marriage. 
The French man must pass the family council 
before becoming an accepted suitor. He con- 
sults them in his business ventures. His 
troubles become theirs when Madamoiselle 
changes to Madame and is his comrade as well 
as a continued sweetheart. She devotes her 
whole time and attention to him. Her clever, 
home-making instinct is combined with good 



212 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

business sense. She is a valuable partner in 
life's great enterprise. 

One of the most beautiful sights in France 
is, on a Sunday afternoon the poilu home on 
furlough, satisfied to drink a bottle or two of 
wine with his family, and rest. He did not want 
to see anyone else. But she insists he must 
see grandmother and sister-in-law, drop into 
the cafe and inquire about old comrades, then, 
enjoy a walk out into the country. 

I ; n the gathering twilight Madame conducts 
her straggling brood home, her hands full of 
flowers, her eyes full of love — the little doll- 
like children, with long, flowing hair, romping 
nearby. The poilu has lost that dark, brood- 
ing look. That little touch of Nature and the 
woman diverted his mind from suffering and 
revived his sentiment. She sent him back to 
the front with a smile on her lips — hiding the 
dread of her heart. 

The thought of peace is ever with her — she 
longs for it. But her conscience will not permit 
her to ask it. She thinks of the thousands of 
graves that dot the hillsides with the cross at 
the head. She will suffer the torments of hell 
rather than that they shall have died in vain. 

Their little savings have been used up. The 



LOVE AND WAR 213 

clothes are worn thin. She works, slaves to 
keep the wolf from the door. She manages to 
send an occasional five-franc note to her poilu. 
She labors in munition factories, the tram- 
ways, the postal service, in the fields, replacing 
the man, while cows and dogs do the work of 
the horses, who, like the men, are on the front. 
She wears wooden shoes and pulls hand-carts 
about the street. She drives the milch cow 
that plows the land, cleans the cars and wipes 
the engines on the railroad, cooks the food and 
nurses the wounded and sick in hospitals, 
does clerical work in the commissary depart- 
ment and military bureaus — chasing out 
the fat slackers who were strutting in the 
rear. 

In spite of all, she retains her feminacy. She 
is still as alluring, as good a comrade, as cheer- 
ful and gay, outwardly, as though her body 
was not racked by fatigue, her heart choked 
with sadness. Occasionally she forgets her- 
self. The mask falls off and trouble stares 
through the windows of her soul. Catching 
that look in the eyes of his nurse, a soldier 
exclaimed: "Cheer up! It will be all right 
after the war/' She replied: "After the war? 
There will be no 'after the war.' You'll be dead, 



214 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

I'll be dead. We shall all be dead. There'll be 
no 'after the war.' " 

Many French girls have deliberately married 
mutilated cripples to cheer and to help them 
earn their living. A beautiful young woman, 
gazing into the eyes of her soldier, said: 
"Why should we not? They lost their legs and 
arms for us — we cannot do too much for them." 

Does the poilu appreciate this? Does he? 
What if he did lose one leg for such a woman? 
He would give the other with pleasure ! 

On furlough one evening, eating supper in 
my favorite cafe in Paris, I observed a most 
horribly repulsive object. He had once been a 
poilu, but a shell battered his face so that it 
resembled humanity not at all. His nose was 
flattened out. His skin was mottled and dis- 
colored. A hole was where the mouth had 
been. Both eyes were gone and one arm was 
crippled. He sat and waited for food. Madame 
came from behind the counter and looked on. 
A fat boy, repulsed and sickened, forgot his 
appetite and gazed, unconsciously stroking his 
stomach, fascinated by that mutilated creature. 

A very beautiful girl, whose face might pass 
her into Heaven without confession, left the 
well-dressed gourmands with empty plates. 



LOVE AND WAR 215 

She went and served the unfortunate one. She 
cut his meat and held his napkin that caught 
the drippings. She was so kind and gentle and 
showed such consideration, I asked her: 

"Is that the proprietor?" 

"Oh, no." 

"Your husband or sweetheart, perhaps?" 

"I have none." 

"Who was he?" 

"Un pauvre poilu." 

Again, we were in a peasant woman's farm- 
house. She wore wooden shoes, without socks. 
Just home from work in the fields, she asked 
two convalescent soldiers to help drink a bottle 
of wine, and we sat and talked with her. 

"Yes," she said, her dark eyes shining with 
pride, "my husband was a soldier, too. He is 
now a prisoner in Germany. This is his photo- 
graph. Don't you think he looks well? He 
was a machine gunner in Alsace. He did not 
run away when the Germans came, but stayed 
and worked the gun." Then, speaking of a well 
dressed little girl sitting on my Egyptian com- 
rade's knee: "He has never seen her — she is 
only two years old and thinks every soldier is 
papa." 



216 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Hanging from the roof was a row of dried 
sausages. Pointing to them she said: "Yes, I 
send him a package every week and never for- 
get to put in a sausage. Don't you think from 
the photograph he looks well?" 

In the stable were two milch cows and a 
young heifer. Indicating the latter, she said: 
"He has not seen her, either. When he comes 
home I am going to kill her, faire le bomb, and 
ask all the family." 

The look of pride changed into a haunted, 
painful, far-away gaze: "Oh, dear, we shall 
all be women! Except my husband and Fran- 
cois, my brother, all our men are dead — four of 
my brothers! Francois is the last. The Gov- 
ernment sent him from the front to keep the 
family alive. Don't you think France was good 
to us to do that?" 

When in hospital I met the grand dame from 
the nearby chateau. She harnessed her own 
horse and drove through the rain, on a wintry 
morning, to play the organ at early mass. She 
nursed a ward in the hospital through the day 
and returned home alone in the darkness to 
make her own supper. 

"Oh," she said, "I don't mind it, I do what I 



LOVE AND WAR 217 

can. I was not brought up right or I could be 
of more use. Before the war, we had fifteen 
servants. They are now at war. We have 
only two left, a half-wit and a cripple." 

"Do you know," she said, "I have never heard 
the English marching song 'Tipperary.' I just 
love music. In Tours the other day, I saw it 
on sale, my hand was in my pocket before I 
knew. But I happened to think of our brave 
soldiers; they need so many things" — 

Noticing the troubled look on the usually 
serene countenance of a very good friend, I 
asked her: "Why those clouds?" 

"Oh," she replied, "they have just called 
Gaston to the colors. His class is called up. 
You know how I have pinched and saved to 
bring that boy up right. Now, he must go 
and I cannot make myself feel glad. I ought 
to feel proud, but I cannot. I don't feel right. 
Every time I look at him I think of my husband 
and his one leg." 

During the early days of the war I was out 
with my landlady, whose calculating instinct 
in the matter of extra charges separated me 
from all my loose change. Going past the 
Gare d'Est Paris we noticed a crowd about a 



218 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

French soldier. He had a German helmet in 
his hand. Walking up to him, she said: 

"What is that?" 

"A German helmet, Madame." 

"Did you get that?" 

"Yes, Madame." 

"Did you get it yourself?" 

"Certainly, Madame." 

"Here, take this, go back and get some 
more." She passed her pocketbook over to the 
poilu. 

The soldier stared; the crowd stared; but the 
soldier was a thoroughbred. Crooking his 
elbow and sticking the helmet out on his index 
finger, he bowed: 

"Will Madame give me pleasure by accepting 
the helmet?" 

Would she! Boche helmets were scarce in 
those days. Beautiful Mademoiselles in that 
crowd would have given their souls to possess 
such a treasure ! Neither they nor I know 
Madame. Her eyes looked level into those of 
the soldier as she demanded : 

"You are not a Parisian?" 

"No, Madame." 

"To what province are you going?" 

"Brittany." 



LOVE AND WAR 219 

"When?" 

"At six o'clock tonight." 

"Have you a wife?" 

"Yes, Madame." 

"Will you do something for me?" 

"With the greatest pleasure!" 

"Well, keep that casque in your hand until 
you arrive in Brittany. Then give it to your 
wife. She will always love you for it and your 
children will never forget such a father!" 

Walking away, Madame dropped into a silent 
mood. I looked at her curiously. Was she 
sorry she had given away her money? Did she 
regret not accepting that highly-prized helmet, 
or was she thinking of the pleasure that gift 
would give the soldier's wife? 

Suddenly she turned and said: "Well, one 
thing is certain." 

"What is certain?" 

"You will have to pay my car fare home." 

The self-sacrifice and devotion of the women 
permeates the atmosphere — from the lowest to 
the highest. It is contagious. It is evident, 
even to a stranger, and it restores his faith 
in human nature. She is the other half 
of the poilu. He excels in courage and forti- 



220 



SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 







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LOVE AND WAR 



221 



tude. She completes him with an untiring zeal. 

One beautiful, romantic feature of French 
army life is the adop- 
tion of soldiers by god- 
mothers. In one in- 
stance, a girl fifteen 
years of age, having 
enough money, adopted 
a half dozen. One of 
them proved to be a 
Senegalize, who wished 
to take the young lady 
back to Africa to com- 
plete his harem ! 

The uncertainties and 
possibilities of the situa- 
tion distract the soldier's 
mind from his real, 




CROIX DE GUERRE 

Famous French War Cross 

The star denotes an indi- 
vidual citation, "John Bowe, 
an American citizen, en- 
gaged in the active army, 

The lady sends him little who in spite of his age 

r r . (past the limits of military 

COmtortS, extra food, Or service) has given an- ex- 

mnnev anrl mavhp in- P ression of the most abso- 
lute devotion. Upon the 

front since the 9th of May. 
1915, he has always volun- 
teered for the dangerous 
missions and the most peril- 
ous posts." 



staring troubles. His 
thoughts are directed in- 
to pleasant channels. 



vites him to spend his 
furlough at her resi- 
dence. She always does, 



222 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

if he is from invaded territory. If they prove 
congenial, friendship sometimes ripens into 
love and love into marriage. It relieves the 
lonesome isolation of the soldier, and gives 
the woman a direct, personal interest in the 
war. 

In the spring of 1916 I stood at the Spouters' 
Corner in Hyde Park, London, where Free 
Speech England allows its undesirables to ex- 
press themselves. Here the authorities classify, 
label and wisely permit each particular crank 
or freak to here blow off surplus gas. If sup- 
pressed, it might explode or fester and become 
a menace. 

In French uniform I was listening to the 
quips of a woman lecturer who really was a 
treat. "Yes," she cried out, "Mr. Asquith has 
asked us poor people to economize. Instead 
of spending three shillings a day, we must only 
spend two ; and our average wage is but a bob 
and a half. The high cost of living is nothing 
to the cost of high living. When Mr. Asquith 
pushes that smooth, bald head of his up through 
the Golden Gates, St. Peter will think it is a 
bladder of lard, and lard is worth two shillings 
per pound. So he will 'wait and see' if he can 



LOVE AND WAR 223 

use it at the price." (English call Asquith Mr. 
"Wait and See.") "Yes," she continued, "I 
try to be careful to make things last as long 
as possible. Instead of buying a new petti- 
coat, I now change the one I have wrong side 
out and make it last twice as long." 

I was absorbing these subleties when a 
French lady, dressed in velvet and furs, notic- 
ing my faded blue uniform, stepped up, excused 
herself, and asked if I were not a French sol- 
dier, and would I have a cup of tea with her? 

Thus, I found my god-mother. 

One year later, again on furlough, passing 
through London, I called on my good friend 
and was invited to accompany her to church. 
After a long prayer, so long as to excite my 
curiosity, she whispered : "I used to come here 
every Sunday and pray for you. In this seat, at 
this part of the ceremony, I prayed you would 
come back again. I wanted you here with me 
today so I could show you to God. Now I am 
content. He will take care of you." 

Opening her prayer-book, she took out a piece 
of paper and pressed it into my hand. It was 
an extract from a London newspaper, which 
told of my being decorated by the French Gov- 
ernment. I had not told her, and was not aware 



224 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

the news had been in the London papers. At 
the house, later, Captain Underwood, one of 
Rawlinson's invalided veterans,- who was in 
the retreat from Antwerp, inquired : "Did our 
friend show you the paper?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, she bought that newspaper one night 
and came here crying out, 'See what my poilu 
has done, and he never said a word to me about 
it!' When you blew in, she made us promise 
we would not mention it till after you came 
back from church." 



CHAPTER XIX 

DEMOCRACY 

Democratic Government is the direct oppo- 
site of the German system. In America the 
individual is superior to the state, on the 
principle that man was born before the state 
was organized. He was there first, endowed 
by Nature with certain inalienable rights, 
such as life, liberty and the pursuit of happi- 
ness. 

He organized a government to make those 
rights secure with the state as servant — not 
master of his destiny. The public official is 
just the people's hired man. He is not paid to 
give, or to permit, one set of individuals to gain 
advantage. He must enforce equality, and see 
that every citizen has equal rights with equal 
opportunities. Where rights are equal, priv- 
ileges must be. Where there is inequality of 
rights there is inequality of privilege. The 
burden, shirked by the privileged class, is 
thrown upon those whose rights have been 
usurped, making their load doubly heavy. 

225 



226 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

In time of peace, preparedness is the pre- 
mium paid for war insurance. During war, 
impartial, obligatory military service is based 
on equality of men. 

The danger to democratic institutions lies 
not in the people, but in those that prey upon 
them, who, having obtained unfair privilege, 
not satisfied, continually grasp for more. We 
have seen what inequality has done to the Ger- 
mans and we do not want it in America. 

This war should sound the death knell of the 
professional politician. The trimmer, carry- 
ing water on both shoulders has schemed for 
power while others worked. Afraid of losing- 
votes, he did not stand up for the right. He 
goes into the discard, replaced by men of ability 
and courage. Leaders of the people will 
remove the inefficient tool of privilege. 

War is a habit breaker ? It is a series of jolts. 
The start of the war was a jolt. The day of 
peace will be another. Just as one trench is 
wiped out and another made, some day we shall 
wake to find frontiers gone, the whole map of 
Europe changed, with the people ruling where 
were kings. Nothing will be the same. Old 
thoughts, ideas, .beliefs, prejudices, humbugs — 
social, political and religious, will have been 



DEMOCRACY 227 

thrown into the melting pot. The bogus will 
disappear and only Truth remain. 

French Law and Equality are based on nat- 
ural justice. That the people have won and 
are the basis of their liberty. The magistrates, 
the judges of duty, the legislators, are the 
means used to secure these liberties. 

They maintain that men are born and should 
live, free, with equal rights and duties, that 
social distinction should be founded, not on 
wealth or nobility, but on public benefits to the 
community, that honors should be given to the 
most able, to the most faithful, without distinc- 
tion of wealth or birth. 

Rights are, liberty, property, security and 
resistance to oppression. Liberty is a natural 
right. Force, time, circumstance shall not 
abolish it. It is not liberty to do its own will, 
regardless of others. Individual liberty stops, 
where the rights of the community commence. 
The object of political association is the preser- 
vation of rights. 

The principle of sovereignty rests in the 
people, as expressed through their representa- 
tives. The Law is the written expression of the 
people's will. It is the guarantee of rights to 



228 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

all. All citizens need the law. All are eligible 
to be honored by dispensing or enforcing its 
requirements. 

All shall pay toward the administration of 
Government, and all shall fight to maintain it. 
No man shall be stopped or delayed except by 
law. Those who issue arbitrary or unlawful 
orders shall be punished. All men are accepted 
as innocent till proved guilty. A man has a 
right to express his opinion and religious con- 
victions, provided they are not contrary to law. 

The law, on its part, does not interfere with 
•dogmas or schisms, but assures to each man 
liberty of expression and action, to think, and 
speak, write and circulate, that which he be- 
lieves true. This free expression of ideas makes 
Public Opinion, which is for the advantage of 
all, not for the exclusive use of some few to 
whom it may be confided. It is the safeguard 
of independence and does not make for oppres- 
sion. Public Opinion creates the Law, which, 
in turn, becomes the guarantee of the people. 

All law-makers, dispensing agents, public 
servants, must make a report of their admin- 
istration when called on for it by the people. 
The rights of men are absolutely guaranteed by 
the laws being rigorously applied, impartially. 



DEMOCRACY 229 

Those, who, elected to power, use that power 
for their own private ends, rather than for the 
good of all, are punished. 

Behind the army and the woman, are the 
Cabinet, the Senate, and the Chamber of 
Deputies — the leaders of thought and action. 
The people, as thus represented, are the 
supreme power, the army is subordinate. 
France is a people with an army. Germany 
is an army with a people. Democratic France 
insists on equality, even in military life. I ; t 
will not permit an officer to grant himself, or 
his friends, furloughs which are denied private 
soldiers. As the private soldier may be court- 
martialed for his sins, so may the general offi- 
cer, who, through drunkenness, inefficiency or 
treachery, sacrifices his men or betrays the 
people. He is not whitewashed, or taken from 
the front and given an appointment in the 
rear — kicked upstairs instead of down. He is 
given his sentence and compelled to serve it. 

No brutal or surly officer can chain a private 
soldier to an artillery wagon like a dog. No 
drunken officer can hurl insults at him. Hang- 
ing over the heads of all, like the suspended 
sword of Damocles, is French equality, which 
insists on results, not excuses. It falls on bru- 



230 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

tality and inefficiency. Consequently, French 
officers are invariably gentlemen and treat their 
men as such. 

Every country has its slackers, its pacifists, 
its millionaires, its religious fanatics, who do 
not scruple to use their isms, wealth and special 
privilege to undermine the fabric of a govern- 
ment which compels them to bear their share 
of duty. Consequently, civilian leaders must be 
strong, determined, resolute men, who swerve 
not from the good ahead, who will neither tol- 
erate special pleadings nor permit incapacity. 
They know that, prevented by continually 
changing officers, graft conditions cannot be- 
come established, also, that all around expe- 
rience begets perfection. Soldiers' lives must 
not be sacrificed at the front while profiteers 
fatten in the rear. 

If this war has demonstrated any one thing, 
it is that those who "born to rule" have not 
the capacity to do so. Filling places of pub- 
lic trust, through accident of wealth, or birth, 
or political expediency, at the outbreak of hos- 
tilities — that cunning, calculating fraud on 
democracy, the political machine — appointed 
or elected to serve the people, scheming for 
partizan advantage, really blocked national 



DEMOCRACY 231 

effort and actually, through inaction and 
obstruction, aided the enemy. 

Incapable of mastering a new set of cir- 
cumstances, persisting in playing the new game 
according" to the old rules, those appointed 
failed. Others took up the burden. From the 
ranks of men rose the leaders of thought and 
action, stepping, climbing, pushing over the 
incompetents of title, money and birth, who, 
unable to save themselves, now accept salva- 
tion from those whom they have hated, de- 
spised, oppressed. 

Advancing in spite of obstacles — the more 
opposition, the better, the man worthy to lead, 
clarified by adversity, true to form, takes the 
public into confidence, talking, not in common- 
place generalities, but concrete truths, Lloyd 
George of England, Hughes of Australia, 
Briand, Clemenceau and Viviani of France, 
Kerensky of Russia, Veneviolis of Greece, Sam 
Hughes of Canada, Teddy Roosevelt and 
Woodrow Wilson of America, strong, upright 
and brave men, who scorn the bended knee and 
itching palm, are hated by the professional 
politician and the piratical profiteer. 

Every man, who has courage to stand for the 
right and denounce the wrong, becomes a mark 



232 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

for bricks thrown at his devoted head — by 
shirkers who won't protect their own — by 
rascals who have been looting the public — and 
by traitors who would betray their country. 
These leaders have terrific opposition in 
their fight against systematized, anti-national 
organizations. It is the duty of every citizen, 
in times of national danger, to support the Gov- 
ernment, regardless of party. 



CHAPTER XX 

AUTOCRACY 

German Government is founded on the prin- 
ciple that the State is superior to the individual. 
Being superior, it is not subject to that code of 
honor, that respect for decency, which binds 
men of different races, religions and countries 
and distinguishes man from the brute. 

The Reichstag of Germany is supposed to be 
the popular assembly. In reality, it is the bul- 
wark of wealth. Under this system, man be- 
longs to property, not property to man. Voters, 
who have paid one-third of the total income 
tax, elect one-third of the electors, who choose 
one-third of the Reichstag. Voters who pay 
the next third do likewise, and the same system 
applies to the last third. In 1908, 293,000 voters 
chose the first third; 1,065,240 selected the sec- 
ond third, and 6,324,079 elected the last third. 
Thus, 4 per cent of the voters elected the first 
third, 14 per cent the second, and the last third, 
82 per cent — all the poor people were thrown 

233 



234 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

together and controlled by the other two- 
thirds, or 18 per cent. 

In free countries, the State exists for the 
benefit of the individual. In Germany, the 
individual lives exclusively for the State. He 
has no right to free speech, free thought, the 
pursuit of happiness, nor even to existence 
itself, unless the Kaiser sees it to his advantage 
to grant, or permit, those luxuries. 

In case a popular measure slipped through 
the Reichstag, it would have to be voted upon 
by the Bundesrath — a secret upper house ap- 
pointed by the princes — not the people, of each 
separate State of the German Empire. Each 
State votes as a unit. No amendment can pass 
the Bundesrath if fourteen out of the sixty- 
one votes are cast against it. The Kaiser, rep- 
resenting Prussia, holds seventeen votes, and 
three for Alsace-Lorraine. So, the individual 
German voter's work is carefully nullified by 
this system, over which he has no control. He 
is outvoted by wealth in the Reichstag. The 
Reichstag is outvoted by the aristocracy of the 
Bundesrath. This, in turn, is outvoted by the 
Autocracy of the Kaiser. 

Autocracy, aristocracy and wealth compose 
the Board of Strategy and officer the army. 



AUTOCRACY 235 

The army is superior to the Reichstag. It is 
outside of and above the law, within the coun- 
try but not responsible to it. It is not an army 
of the people, it is the Kaiser's army. 

So the Bundesrath, the Reichstag, the Board 
of Strategy, the controlled newspapers and 
political professors, extending down from the 
throneroom to the kindergarten, are meshes in 
the net that entangles man whose rights they 
have usurped. Through that system, the child 
is caught in infancy, given Kultur with 
mother's milk, then taught to spy upon family 
and neighbors; he listens to political professors 
at school, political parsons at church. The 
more he informs the further he advances, till 
he reaches the army, where docility and obe- 
dience and respect for authority are instilled 
into him till he can have neither original ideas 
nor independent thought. 

He is told he is under no obligation to observe 
elementary decency, that there is no honor 
among men or nations. He is taught to hate, 
not to love, to depend on might, not right, and 
to work for war instead of peace. The French, 
the British, the Americans are only human, but 
the good Kaiser is divine, and the German is 
a super-man, chosen by God to rule the world. 



236 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

The "good Kaiser" was chosen by God to dom- 
inate the German race, who are to conquer the 
world, and the German super-man, under the 
Kaiser, is to obtain that domination through 
war. 

A woman who has compassion in her soul 
for the unfortunate has no right to live. Pity 
is not German. Miss Cavel had pity in her 
heart, even for German wounded, for homeless 
Belgians. So she was executed. 

The wounded in hospital ships were tor- 
pedoed without warning, murdered by unseen 
hands reaching out from the darkness, and the 
perpetrators were promoted for gallantry. 

After robbing and burning the towns of 
northern France and Belgium they turned 
around and demanded an indemnity, having 
picked the victim's pocket, they asked for his 
money. They robbed the priceless libraries to 
preserve the books. • They drove the van- 
quished victims into slavery to protect them 
from laziness, and raped woman to save her 
virginity. The French, English or American 
who rapes a woman, desecrates a church, or 
murders innocent women and children, knows 
he commits a crime — the German lacks such 
consciousness. 



AUTOCRACY 237 

So, unchecked, uncontrolled, responsible to 
no one, they are wild beasts at large. Backed 
by an army of 11,000,000 men, they tried to 
overwhelm peace-loving Europe. They over- 
run Luxemburg. They turned the garden of 
France into a desert. They could see in Bel- 
gium only the nearest road to France. Sub- 
ject to no restraint, responsible to no one, their 
passion for power, for money, for lust, recog- 
nized no authority, contract, nor law. 

Their ungovernable tempers became in- 
flamed at the slightest opposition and they do 
not scruple to commit the most odious crimes 
upon the unfortunate people in their power. 
Repression, terrorism, theft, rape and murder 
are elevated into virtues and rewarded with 
honors. By brute force they overide decency, 
freedom, arbitration and liberty. Murderers 
at bay, they fight to keep from being exe- 
cuted. 

And, as the German people were compelled 
to work for them in time of peace, now they 
must die for them in time of war. 

Such is the German Government. 

At The Hague Convention, 1907, the follow- 
ing were agreed to and signed by Germany. 



238 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

ARTICLE 24. "It is forbidden to kill or wound 
an enemy who has dropped his arms or has no means 
of defense, and who surrenders at discretion." 

ARTICLE 46. "The honor and the rights of the 
people, the lives of the family, the private property 
must be respected." 

"August 23, 1914, at Gomery, Belgium, a Ger- 
man patrol entered the ambulance, fired upon 
the wounded, killed the doctor and shot the 
stretcher bearers." Part of a deposition of Dr. 
Simon, in Red Cross Service, 10th Region. 

"The night of the 22d (August, 1914), I 
found in the woods at 150 yards to the north 
of the crossroads, formed by the meeting of 
the large trench of Colonne with the road of 
Vaux de Palaneix to St. Remy, the bodies of 
French prisoners shot by the Germans. I saw 
thirty soldiers who had been gathered together 
in a little space, for the most part lying down, 
a few on their knees, and all mutilated the same 
way by being shot in the eye." Affidavit of a 
captain of the 288th Infantry. 

"We saw there an execution squad. Before 
it lay, on the slope of the side of the road, fifty 
bodies of French prisoners who had just been 
shot. We approached and saw one hapless Red 
Cross man who had not been spared. A non- 
commissioned officer was finishing off with 



AUTOCRACY 239 

revolver shots any who still moved. He gave 
us, in German, the order to point out to him 
those of our men who still breathed." Report 
of Dr. Chou, who was captured and repatriated. 
He related the above to a Danish physician, Dr. 
De Christmas. 

"I saw a British prisoner killed by a sentry 
at point blank range, because he did not stop 
at the command. Another British soldier was 
shot by a sentry with whom he had a discus- 
sion. The shot broke his jaw; he died next 
day." Report of Sergt. Major Le Bihran, nar- 
rating conditions at Gottingen. 

The French Government has the note book 
of a German soldier, Albert Delfosse of the 
111th Infantry of the 14th Reserve Corps. "In 
the forest near St. Remy, on the 4th or 5th of 
September, I encountered a very fine cow and 
calf, dead, and again, the bodies of French men, 
fearfully mutilated." 

Order of the Day, issued by General Stenger 
near Thiaville, Meurthe and Moselle, August 
26, 1914: 

"After today we will not make any prisoners ; 
all the prisoners are to be killed; the wounded, 
with arms or without arms, to be killed; the 



240 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

prisoners already gathered in crowds are to be 
killed; behind us there must not remain any 
living enemy." 
Signed, 

The Lieutenant commanding the Company, 

STOV. 
The Colonel commanding the Regiment, 

NEUBAUER. 
The General commanding the Brigade, 

STENGER. 

General Stenger was in charge of the 58th 
Brigade, composed of the 112th and 142d Ba- 
varian Infantry. Thirty soldiers of these regi- 
ments, now prisoners, have made affidavits to 
this, signed with their own names, which are 
in the possession of the French Government. 

The attack of September 25, 1915, brought 
the French within two kilometers of Somme-py. 
Lying in the trenches under the furious bom- 
bardment, we considered the diary which was 
found on the German soldier, Hassemer, of 
the 8th Army Corps, when they captured the 
town in 1914: "Horrible carnage; the villages 
totally burned; the French thrown into the 
burning houses; the civilians burned with all 
the others." 



AUTOCRACY 241 

I have many times been at St. Maurice, 
Meurthe and Moselle, where I saw and pon- 
dered over, fire-blackened houses and somber- 
faced, solitary women. The tall chimney of 
a demolished manufacturing plant stands guard 
over desolation. From the diary of a Bavarian 
soldier of the Germany army, evidence written 
by the perpetrators, the following is quoted: 
"The village of St. Maurice was encircled, the 
soldiers advanced at one yard apart, through 
which line nobody could get. Afterward the 
Uhlans started the fire, house by house. 
Neither man, nor woman, nor child could get 
away. They were permitted to take out the 
cattle because that was a drawing out method. 
Those that risked to run away were killed by 
rifle shot. All those that were found in the 
village were burned with it." 

In the first lot of exchanged English prison- 
ers returned from Germany was a Gloucester 
man shot in his jaws, his teeth blackened and 
broken. Pointing to where his chin had been, 
he told me: "That is what they did to me — 
what they did after I was taken prisoner and 
was wounded in four places and unable to 
move. A Boche came along, put his rifle to my 



242 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

face and pulled the trigger. But that wasn't 
anything to what they did to my comrade. He 
was lying in his blanket seriously wounded, 
and a Boche ran a bayonet into him sixteen 
times before he died." 

In the clearing house hospital at Lyons I 
saw two old comrades meet, one wounded, 
from the front, the other from a German prison 
camp. "Yes," said the latter, with a peculiar, 
vacant expression in his eye. "Yes, I was cru- 
cified. I was hung from a beam in the middle 
of the camp for two hours, hands tied together 
over my head, in the form of a cross, body hang- 
ing down till my feet were eighteen inches 
above the ground." 

"Is that true?" I demanded. 

"True, look at these arms. Ask those com- 
rades over there. I swear it, I will write it 
down for you." 

He wrote the above statement and signed 
his name, Gandit, Pierre, 19th Infantry. 

August 28, 1914. "The French soldiers who 
were captured were led away. Those seriously 
wounded, in the head or lungs, etc., who could 
not get up, were put out of their misery, accord- 



AUTOCRACY 243 

ing to orders, by another shot." An extract 
from the diary of a German soldier, Fahlen- 
stein, 34th Fusiliers II Army. The original 
is in the hands of the French Government. 

At Ethe, finding twenty wounded men 
stretched' out in a shed, unable to move, they 
burned the shed and roasted them alive. 

At Gomery a temporary, first aid hospital 
was captured. A Boche sergeant and a group 
of soldiers rushed in, assaulted the doctor in 
charge and burned the building. The wounded 
men, some of whom had had amputations that 
same morning, maddened by the flames, 
jumped out of the windows into the garden, 
where they were bayonetted by the waiting 
fiends. Dr. De Charette, Lieutenant Jeanin 
and about one hundred and twenty wounded 
French officers and men were butchered. This 
hospital was under command of Dr. Sedillat. 

"The Russians were treated like beasts, but 
among those emaciated, ragged creatures, the 
most miserable of all, the most cruelly used 
of all are the British. They were always the 
last and the worst served. If ill, thev were 



244 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

always the worst cared for. When they had no 
more clothing to sell to buy food, they came 
to the hospital utterly exhausted, stark naked, 
and died of hunger. It was a sight to pierce 
the heart." Report of Dr. Monsaingeon, of the 
French Medical Service, on conditions at Gust- 
rout in 1914 and 1915. Confirmation furnished 
the French Foreign Officers and printed in 
"Treatment of French Prisoners in Germany." 

The following letter, written by Officer 
Klent, 1st Company, 154th German Infantry 
Regiment, was published in the "Jauersches 
Tageblatt," Harmonville, September 24, 1914: 
"We reached a little hollow in the ground, 
where many red breeches, killed and wounded, 
were lying. We bayonetted some of the 
wounded and smashed in the skulls of others. 
Nearby I heard a singular crushing sound. I : t 
was caused by the blows one of our 154th men 
was raining on the bald skull of a Frenchman. 
Our adversaries had fought bravely, but, 
whether slightly or severely wounded, our 
brave Fusiliers spared our country the expense 
of having to nurse so many enemies." 



CHAPTER XXI 

THEIR CRIMES 

We must make it absolutely impossible for 
the wild beast to break out again. Our living- 
ought to know the crimes committed in the 
name of Kultur, in order to take the necessary 
precautions against their recurrence. To our 
martyred dead, we have a sacred duty, that of 
Remembrance. 

A little book was published at Nancy under 
the patronage of the Prefect of Meurthe, G. 
Simon, Mayor of Nancy, and G. Keller of Lune- 
ville, aided by the Mayors of the following 
towns, located at or near the battle front: Bel- 
fort, Epinal, Nancy, Bar-le-Duc, Chalons, 
Chateau-Thierry, Nelien, Beauvais, Baccarat, 
Luneville, Gerbiveller, Momemy, Pont-a-Mous- 
son, Verdun, Clermont, Semaise, Rheims, Sen- 
lis, Albert. 

It is a record of robbery, rape, repression and 
murder that will taint the German blood for 
generations, from Prince Eitel Fritz, the son 
of the Kaiser, who looted the Chateau Brierry 

245 



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248 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

Avocourt, down to the under officers, who 
searched private residences, which, open to the 
captors, it was forbidden to lock. It is a record 
of shame and dishonor, of brutal force, with- 
out a saving element of mercy. They struck 
their helpless victims singly, in groups, in 
hecatombs. 

Individually, they followed the systematic 
teaching of organized butchery. The world 
knows about the murder of Miss Cavell, the 
Red Cross nurse; of Eugene Jacquet, the Free- 
mason; of Captain Fryatt, the civilian sea-cap- 
tain. This little book records the death of 
many others, innocent martyrs to the same 
glorious cause. 

At Foret the public school teacher refused to 
tread the French flag underfoot and was shot. 

At Schafren, A Willem was burned alive, two 
others were interred alive. Madame Luykx 
and daughter, twelve years of age, refuging 
together in a cave, were shot. J. Reynolds and 
his nephew of ten years were shot, out in the 
street. 

At Sompins, an old man, Jacquimin, 70 years 
of age, was tied to his bed by an officer and left 



THEIR CRIMES 249 

there three days. He died shortly after his 
deliverance. 

At Monceau-Sur-Sambre they shut up the 
two brothers S. in a shed and burned them alive. 

At Momemy, M. Adam was thrown alive into 
the fire, then shot at with rifles and Mme. 
Cousine, after being shot, was thrown into the 
fire and roasted. 

At Maixe, M. Demange, wounded in both 
knees, fell helpless in his house, and they set 
fire to it. 



At Triancourt, Mme. Maupoix, 75 years old, 
as kicked to death be 
was found in her closet. 



was kicked to death because not enough loot 



At Conis, Madame Dalissier, 73 years, who 
declared she had no money, was shot through 
the bodv fifteen times. 



At Rouyes, a farmer refused to tell where he 
got some French military clothes. An officer 
shot him twice. 



250 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

At Crezancy, M. Le Saint, 18 years of age, 
was killed by an officer because some day he 
would be a soldier. 

At Embermenil, Mine. Masson was shot be- 
cause her servant, an idiot, gave a wrong direc- 
tion. The madame, pregnant, was made to sit 
on a chair while they executed her. 

At Ethe one hundred and ninety-seven were 
executed, among them two priests, who were 
shot because they were accused of hiding arms. 

At Marqueglise, a superior officer stopped 
four young boys, and, saying that the Belgians 
were dirty people, he shot each one in succes- 
sion. One was killed outright. 

At Pin, the Uhlans met two young boys, 
whom they tied to their horses, then urged 
them to a gallop. Some kilometers away, the 
bodies were found, the skin worn away from 
the knees, one with throat cut, both with many 
bullet holes through the head. 

At Sermaize, the farmer Brocard and his son 
were arrested. His wife and daughter-in-law 



THEIR CRIMES 251 

were thrown into a near-by river. Four hours 
later, the men were set at liberty and found the 
two bodies of the women in the water, with 
several bullet holes in their heads. 

At Aerschot, the priest had hung a cross in 
front of the church. He was tied, hands and 
feet, the inhabitants ordered to march past and 
urinate on him. They then shot him and threw 
the body into the canal. A group of seventy- 
eight men, tied three together, were taken into 
the country, assaulted en route, and shot at and 
killed the following morning. 

At Monchy-Humieres, an officer heard the 
word "Prussians" spoken. He ordered three 
dragoons to fire into the group, one was killed, 
two wounded, one of them was a little girl of 
four years. 

At Hermeuil, while looting the town, the 
inhabitants were confined in a church. Mme. 
Winger and her three servants, arriving late, 
the captain, monocle in his eye, ordered the 
soldiers to fire. The four were killed. 

At Sommeilles, while the town was being 
burned, the Dame X. with her four children, 



252 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

sought refuge in a cave with her neighbor, 
Adnot, and his wife. Some days later, the 
French troops, recapturing the town, found 
the seven bodies, horribly mutilated, lying in 
a sea of blood. The Dame had her right arm 
severed from the body, a young girl, eleven 
years of age, had one foot cut off, the little boy, 
five years old, had his throat cut. 

At Louveigne, a number of civilians took 
refuge in a blacksmith shop. In the afternoon 
the Germans opened the door, chased out the 
victims, and as they ran out shot them down 
like so many rabbits. Seventeen bodies were 
left lying on the plain. 

At Senlis the mayor of the town and six of 
the city council were shot to death. 

At Coalommiers a husband and two children 
testified to the rape of the mother of the family. 

At Melen-Labouche, Marguerite Weras was 
outraged by twenty German soldiers before she 
was shot, in sight of her father and mother. 

At Louppy le Chateau, it is the grandmother 
who is violated, and, in the same town, a mother 



THEIR CRIMES 253 

and two daughters, thirteen and eight years 
old, were also victims of German savagery. 

At Nimy, little Irma G., in six hours, was 
done to death. Her father, going to her aid, 
was shot, her mother, seriously wounded. 

At Handzaerne, the mayor, going to the aid 
of his daughter, was shot. 

At St. Mary's Pass, two sergeants of the 
31st Alpines were found with their throats cut. 
Their bayonets were thrust into their mouths. 

At Remereville, Lieutenant Toussant, lying- 
wounded on the battlefield, was jabbed with 
bayonets by all the Germans who passed him. 
The body was punctured with wounds from the 
feet to the head. 

At Audrigny, a German lieutenant met a 
Red Cross ambulance, carrying ten wounded 
men. He deployed his men and fired two 
rounds into the vehicle. 

At Bonville, in a barn, a German officer shot 
in the eye nine wounded French soldiers, who, 
lying stretched out, were unable to move. 



254 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

At Montigny le Titcul, the Germans dis- 
covered M. Vidal dressing the wounds of a 
French soldier, L. Sohier, who was shot in the 
head. M. Vidal was shot at sight, then the 
wounded man was killed. 

At Nary, they compelled twenty-five women 
to march parallel with them as a shield against 
the French fire. 

At Malinas, six German soldiers, who had 
captured five young girls, placed the girls in 
a circle about them when attacked. 

At Hongaerdi they killed the priest. 

At Erpe, the Germans forced thirty civilians, 
one only thirteen years old, to march ahead, 
while, hidden among the crowd were German 
soldiers and a machine gun. 

At Ouen-Sur-Morin, on Sept. 7, 1914, the 
Death's Head Huzzars, the Crown Prince's 
favorite regiment, drove all the civilians into 
the Chateau, then, sheltered by those innocents, 
they told the English, "Shoot away/' 



THEIR CRIMES 255 

At Parchim, where 2,000 civilians, French 
prisoners, were interned, two prisoners, hun- 
gry, demanding food, were clubbed to death 
with the butt end of rifles, while the young 
daughter of one of them was immediately given 
eight days "mis au poteau." 

'At Gerberviller, at the home of Lingenheld, 
they searched for his son, a stretcher bearer of 
the Red Cross, tied his hands, led him into the 
street and shot him down. Then they poured 
oil on the body and roasted it. Then the father, 
of 70 years, was executed, along with fourteen 
other old men. More than fifty were martyred 
in this commune alone. 

Sister Julia, Superior of the Hospital Ger- 
berviller, reports: "To break into the taber- 
nacle of the Church of Gerberviller, the enemy 
fired many shots around the lock, the interior 
of the ciborium was also perforated." 

Statement of Mile. — , tried and acquitted for 
the murder of her infant, in Paris. 

"At Gerberviller, I worked in the hospital. 
Going to the church one night, three German 
hospital stewards caught and assaulted me. I 



256 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

did not understand their language. I thought 
they were men. I did not know they were 
brutes. 

"Yes, I killed the child; I could not bear to 
feel myself responsible for bringing anything 
into the world made by the workings of a Ger- 
man." 

In Belgium alone, more than 20,000 homes 
have been pillaged and burned. More than 
5,000 civilians, mostly old men, women and 
children, with fifty priests and one hundred 
and eighty-seven doctors, have been murdered. 

At Timines, 400 civilians were murdered. 

At Dinant, more than 600 were martyred, 
among them seventy-one women, 34 old men, 
more than 70 years of age, six children of from 
five to six years of age, eleven children less than 
five years. The victims were placed in two 
ranks, the first kneeling, the second standing, 
then shot. 

The foregoing statements, vouched for by 
the most responsible representative men in and 
near the invaded district, are some of the cases 
continually being brought to public attention. 



THEIR CRIMES 257 

This evidence is accumulative, convincing, 
damning proof, it is furnished by the bodies of 
the victims, by neighbor eye witnesses, by de- 
vastated, homes, and by mutilated wrecks, who 
survived — some being recaptured by French 
troops, others, repatriated as useless, sent back 
to France via Switzerland. 

These, and other crimes, are corroborated in 
the four reports of the French Inquiry, in "Vio- 
lations of International Law," published by or- 
der of the French Foreign Minister, by the 
twenty-two reports of the Belgian Commis- 
sion, the reports of a German book published 
May 15, 1915, diaries and note books found on 
bodies of dead German soldiers, wounded men 
and prisoners. They are books of horror, but, 
books of truth, glaring evidence of murdered 
men, misused women, ruined homes. Much of 
them is actually furnished by perpetrators of 
the deeds. . Comments are unnecessary, words 
inadequate, cold print fails. 

FROM A GERMAN DIARY 

"The natives fled from the village. It was 
horrible. There was clotted blood on the 
beards, and the faces we saw were terrible to 



258 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

behold. The dead — about sixty — were at once 
buried; among them were many old women, 
some old men and a half-delivered woman, aw- 
ful to see. Three children had clasped each 
other and died thus. The altar and vault of the 
church were shattered. They had a telephone 
there to communicate with the enemy. This 
morning, Sept. 2, all the survivors were ex- 
pelled, and I saw four little boys carrying a 
cradle with a baby five or six months old in it, 
on two sticks — all this was terrible to behold. 
Shot after shot, salvo after salvo — chickens, 
etc. all killed. I saw a mother with her two chil- 
dren, one had a great wound in the head and 
had lost an eye." 



L'ENVOI 

Into Europe's seething cauldron of blood and 
tears, American youth have been cast. 

Patriotism, pride, resolutely demands that 
the Devil incarnate, who stirs his awful mess 
of ghoulhash, shall perish. 

Our national peril, the whole earth's dire 
need, assembling the Country's selected young 
manhood, now make this a United States in fact 
— probably, for the first time since Washington 
and Valley Forge. 

I have tried to make you see war as I know 
it, war with no footballs, portable bath tubs, vic- 
trolas nor Red Triangle Huts. Such blessings 
are God-sends — more power to His messen- 
gers! 

I met a company of the 18th U. S. Engineers 
swinging along the tree-fringed macadamized 
highway toward the front. Clean-cut, well 
dressed, smooth-shaven, happy and gay. It was 
a joy to see them. It made a man feel proud to 
belong to the same race. They yelled a greet- 
ing in broken French to the dirty Poilu, who re- 
sponded in the latest American slang, and 

259 



260 



SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 




L'ENVOI 261 

marched away singing into the darkness, the 
words echoing loud or low, as different sections 
took up the tune : 

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the 

Lord : 
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of 

wrath are stored ; 
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible 

swift sword, 
His truth is marching on. 

Yes, Julia Ward Howe's hymn is quite right. 
It sounds the keynote of America's part in this 
world's greatest tragedy of all history. 

They returned a month later, boys no longer, 
but men who had been through the fire, and 
stood up to the grief. Tired, weary, chins 
pressed forward; hands on the straps to permit 
free heart action, dust swirled about the mov- 
ing feet, and climbed up and settled on the 
stubby, unshaven face, streaked with perspira- 
tion, which in turn rose and formed an aura 
about the knapsack, as it bobbed up and down 
like a buoy on the sea. From behind the dust- 
topped bristles flash the steely eyes of the Sol- 
dier. 

Such eyes ! Not the calm, contemplative eyes 



262 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

of the sissy, but the strong, fierce, exaltant eyes 
of the man who has fought, and won. 

One month had changed him; the longer he 
is in the Army the greater the change. Already 
he has seen there are things greater than fear, 
found something greater than Life. 

He has realized that in union there is 
strength, that soldiers by acting together as a 
unit gain the objective, which brings the vic- 
tory. 

He wondered at the confidence of the French 
Poilu, and discovered that behind that soldier is 
every man, woman and child, every ounce of 
energy, every cent of money in France. 

His mind wanders to his native land across 
the sea. True the Government is behind him — ■ 
but all the people are not behind the Govern- 
ment. The International Socialist is still bent 
on destruction, and working for Germany; the 
pro-German is hiding his galvanized American- 
ism behind Red Cross and Liberty Loan but- 
tons; the chatauquaized pacifist bemoaning this 
"terrible bloodshed" is trying to dig himself 
into a hole, where he can escape the U. S. draft. 
The foreign-language minister — exempted 
from military service, the only privileged class 
in America — is still talking denominationalism 



L'ENVOI 263 

instead of patriotism; the Big Business banker, 
a deacon in church, prays with the Methodist 
sisters, works hand in glove with monopolists 
who have preyed upon the people, then offers 5 
per cent in competition with the Government 
4*4 per cent. He wants to make a profit for 
himself, rather than have the Government use 
the money to feed and clothe the soldiers on the 
front. The prohibitionists, not satisfied with 
war-time prohibition, with the control of liquor 
by the Government, through the Food Adminis- 
tration, wants to further embarrass the Govern- 
ment by agitating minor issues when every 
ounce of energy is needed to win the war. They 
know the soldier will come back a broader and 
wiser man, and they want to slip this legisla- 
tion over in his absence. Then there is the 
political lawyer who thrives on trouble, gets fat 
on disaster, whose capital is wind, surplus hot 
air, whose services are for sale for cash. Usu- 
ally a trimmer who crawled on his stomach for 
favors, he pledged himself in advance for votes. 
Backed by special interests, these decoys play 
upon the passions and prejudices of men, they 
array class against class, religion against relig- 
ion, section against section. Elected by the peo- 
ple whom they betray, the people in return or- 



264 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

ganize for protection, then the hypocrites wrap 
the robes of loyalty about themselves, rush to 
the head of the procession, .climb the band wag- 
on, seize the bass drum, and cry out: all those 
who don't follow are "drunken, dishonest or 
disloyal." 

Beclouding the main issue — of America's 
danger — scheming for power while soldiers die, 
too busy serving themselves, they have not 
time to serve the nation, they cannot see that 
their day is past and that they must give way 
to the men who will win the war — the soldier, 
the laborer, the producer. 

The living soldier is part of the Government, 
he sees through and past the self-seeking tool 
or profiteer. He is not fooled by the political 
machine. He is no longer Republican, Socialist 
or Prohibitionist — he is American. 

Supported by the non-denominational Red 
Cross and Y. M. C. A., he is no longer Baptist, 
Methodist or Mormon — his religion is confined 
to Right and Wrong. 

That may be all right living; but what of the 
dead? Dead? Who are the dead? Surely not 
the unselfish spirits who sacrificed their bodies 
on the altar of freedom. Their deeds and glory 



L'ENVOI 265 

are immortal. Are they, themselves, anything 
less? 

"They have passed into eternity," we are ac- 
customed to say. Eternity? Do you limit 
eternity? Can you locate eternity's beginning, 
eternity's end? 

Then shall we presume to think those noble 
spirits who went forward to keep our own tem- 
porary abiding place safe for us a while longer, 
dead ? 

Water rises to its source — that is common 
knowledge. But, if we actually cannot see the 
thing, we often rely on established mental 
habit, prescribed for us, long since, by others- 

The soldier, facing the truly big things of 
life, who learns to discard, in emergency, the 
book of rules, cannot believe his comrade, 
whose lifeless, torn body he left on the field, but 
whose spirit still inspires him, dead. In the 
strong days of his youth, he remembers, now, 
his Creator. He knows his absent comrade's 
spirit lives — as does his own, responding to that 
urge to victory! and he knows that they shall 
both return unto God who gave them. 

It is for us, still humanly on the job, to so 
manage that, when such brave spirits come 
back, either to resume their interrupted tasks 



266 SOLDIERS OF THE LEGION 

or to take on greater, we shall have faithfully 
done our bit to make this old world a better 
place in which to live and work. 

Science, from her laboratory, reports that 
nothing is ever lost. Real religion and science 
asrree. 



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